Sue'ing Double
by Tindomiel
Summary: Enter the average teen Mary Sue; then drop her in a Middle Earth that really does not want her there. As the author wreaks torment upon all of Middle Earth, Mary Sue learns the hard way that world-hopping is NEVER as easy as it looks.
1. Where We Meet The Ill Fated Mary Sue

Maria-Susannah's Worst Nightmare  
  
By: Tindomiel  
  
It took me a while to determine the exact purpose of this story. This fic plans to be a long-term project of an Anti-Sue. I will die before I write a full-blown Mary Sue seriously. This work attempts to parody the Sue and the typical Sue stories somewhat. It is not planned to be a reality-Sue - where would be the fun in that? -Though it will incorporate aspects of Real Life and those things Sue writers find too icky and leave out; show the truth about Middle earth, if you like. Tolkien's characters will be In character as much as possible, save for when I feel the need to exploit, and OCs are my own. The Mary Sue is a main character, but there is a reason.  
  
The overall purpose of this story, shall we say, is to punish the Mary Sue as much as possible.

* * *

Part one  
  
Mariah-Susannah Aschiara Larose Elessariel Smith (Though most called her Susie) shook back her astoundingly beautiful long golden hair, tucking it behind her ear, and kept on walking from the bus stop. The rain never ceased to pour, and her shoes were getting wet. Oh, if only she'd remembered her umbrella. But there was only a little way left, and she saw the friendly crumbling building that was Mansfield High School get nearer.  
  
Yes, she is a Mary-Sue. It's pretty obvious by now.  
  
One could almost tell by the way her beautiful golden, almost multicoloured hair shone in the meagre daylight, it was a golden blond, no, a silvery black, no wait, it was a nutty brown, no wait . . .  
  
The way her eyes always sparkled like she put glitter eye drops in them, in a way unachievable by coloured contacts. They shone with the light of 100,000 stars, or maybe a flamethrower.  
  
The way her skin was so perfect, glowing and acne free. Foundation? Acrylic paint, more like.  
  
Her rosy lips, like rose buds. If you had to describe them, you could call them 'kissable', after which you would probably need a cold shower.  
  
Her curved, perfect and ample bosom. She was only 15, but her bra size was huge. The word 'pert' crept into play.  
  
But she was not just beautiful. She was also shallow and moronic, but those two qualities are not important at the present.  
  
She had a destiny to fulfil, and this miserable Tuesday, of all days, was it. Today would be the day that her destiny would come to seek her. She had a remarkable secret to hide, and today, it would be revealed for the world to see. Whether we want to see it is a different issue altogether.  
  
And she was also late for school. Her watch said 8:40 am. Ten minutes late. Mariah-Susannah cursed herself for her tardiness.  
  
Pulling her school bag taut over her shoulders, she made her way uphill to the school. Damned bus, it had to break down in the middle of the road. Now she was late for school. She broke into a trot, trying to get into the shelter of the building. She saw some other latecomers running in front and behind her, recognising some as her classmates.  
  
There was Rory Stevens, a pudgy little boy, from the year below. He waved stupidly at her, and she gave a small grin. Alicia Wells, a brunette in her form who looked like she was descended from budgerigars. And there, pushing her bicycle along (students were not allowed to ride within the premises) and hauling her large violin case was Ginny. Well, Ginny was her nickname. Susie didn't know what her true name was. She'd never bothered to ask. Ginny wasn't even interesting.  
  
Susie always thought the world would be a much better place if everyone were just little more like Susie.  
  
She watched as the girl tripped over her violin case, the bicycle falling on top of her. So typical, she thought, tutting mentally to herself and walked on. The rain had eased slightly, and she had reached the main door of the school, which had a plaque of the school's symbol on it.  
  
She pulled the handle on the door open and tried to remember what lesson she was going to. A teacher walked casually out of the building.  
  
"Oh hi, Susie. This is unlike you to be late." He said to the pretty student. Like many of the younger male teachers, he had been very taken with her; not to mention some older male teachers as well. Susie found she often didn't need to WORK in lessons to earn good grades.  
  
"Sorry sir, the bus broke down." She said in her sweetest voice. Mr. Ashleigh paused for a minute, taken aback. How could anyone speak so beautifully? For a moment he wondered why the hell he was out in the rain.  
  
"Hurry up and get to your lesson, you're soaking wet!" he said finally, recovering his senses.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"My, this is some British weather, to be sure. Glad I got my 'brolly."  
  
And he walked away cheerfully. Susie shook her mane of hair to loose it of some of the rainwater. Her watch said 8:45 am.  
  
And that was when the rumblings started.  
  
A break appeared in the density of grey clouds, to reveal an even greyer sky. A chill wind blew her hair back. She gasped. This would be the day.  
  
Destiny was set.  
  
--But fate stood in the way, and smashed its face in.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a universe called Ea, a world called Arda, a land named Middle Earth, and a realm by the name of Rivendell...

* * *

You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!" Elrond proclaimed, striking his best pose to an inaudible fanfare. The nine members of the Fellowship in front of him looked on politely.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Yay?" said one of the hobbits, probably Pippin, who is loath to make such remarks.  
  
Elrond was stuck. He had rehearsed all of what he was going to say at the council, and it had gone smoothly. They had decided the only way to get rid of the ring was to chuck it in a volcano and the valiant Perian Frodo had 'volunteered'. Then some more people volunteered to go with him.  
  
It had all worked out. Sauron would be overthrown; Elves would live happily ever after in the West, yada-yada-yada.  
  
And yet he wasn't sure. This quest . . . mission . . . thing relied too much on luck. The group seemed to have no idea what to do next, and Elrond made a mental note to remember a map for them. He should help them more. It seemed wrong to send 9 individuals on a life-or-death mission, when nearly half of them couldn't even use a sword to chop carrots. Well, maybe Sam, but the others were, frankly, useless. Elrond felt a sigh occurring inside his mind.  
  
If only there was an easier way, another way, he thought to himself. And then:  
  
"There is another way." A voice spoke, deep and sonorous.  
  
Heads turned to see Glorfindel standing alone, framed in the gateway that lead from the sunlit patio to the rest of the house, a large book clasped in his arms.  
  
"I'm sorry, what did you say, my friend?" Elrond asked.  
  
"I said, there is another way, Elrond."  
  
Elrond felt flustered.  
  
"Haven't we already discussed that?" he snapped irritably, "You should know better Glorfindel. The Ring must be destroyed!"  
  
"I know, I know. The ring must be destroyed. You have said. But I was talking about the quest. There is a way we could guarantee the success of the mission. Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. You know that. This Quest is a risk, a very large risk. One mistake and they could fail and Middle Earth would be doomed."  
  
"--We have no other choice,"  
  
"—I realise that, but wouldn't it be wonderful if we had assurance? A way we could secure the quest's success?"  
  
The council had gone very quiet. He had got their attention. Glorfindel continued.  
  
"I have been reading about the history of the ring in your library, lord, and also on the history of Sauron. And I stumbled upon something." He held out the dusty green volume in his hand.  
  
"That's not one of mine," Elrond said, "All my books are leather-bound."  
  
"Nevertheless, I found this, in your bookshelves." He continued, "And I read it. And it turns out to be very interesting. Let me show you some."  
  
The council felt a long lecture coming up again, and they resumed their seats. Frodo tucked the ring around his neck once more, much to the attention of the man from Gondor. Supper felt like a long way away, thought Frodo longingly.  
  
Glorfindel cleared his throat and read a passage from the book, his voice low and deep.  
  
"'Legend tells of a prophecy; A prophecy that may or may not come true:  
  
'There is one that is not of this world, yet can guarantee the survival of this one. It is a strange phenomenon, an anomaly known as, in literal terms, Avaniel. Lost Star. The anomaly takes the form of a female from another world, destined to come to this one, taking a great burden upon her shoulders to save many lives. She can appear out of nowhere at random, as is the work of Destiny, or she can be Summoned, through a magically created portal between the worlds. She is said to be fairer than Luthien and any woman alive, and has great skill with weapons as well as being very powerful with magics. She may even know the fate of this world, as well as having the capability to change it, beyond the skill of the Valar.' "  
  
Glorfindel paused.  
  
"It goes on like that for some time." He continued normally, "The point is, we can bring this 'Avaniel' here, to Middle Earth, and she can join the Fellowship!"  
  
Voices circulated around the council. It was uproar. It was worse than when Gimli insulted the elves. Everyone was talking at the same time, and everyone wanted to be heard.  
  
"Its is folly," said one of the Elves, "We have already come to a decision, we do not need this 'Avaniel', especially if she is a girl. The plan is set, we will prevail over Sauron!"  
  
"How can it be folly? This girl obviously has super powers beyond us. How good it would be if she were on our side? Fairer than Luthien? I for one would like to meet her. If she joined the Fellowship, with her powers, we would be guaranteed to win!"  
  
"I agree," said another voice, "We could fail. We could all die. Every single one of us. Our fate depends of these nine walkers. To be frank, I would be far more assured if our fate depended on TEN."  
  
"Don't be stupid, there is a reason there are nine. There are nine in a fellowship to counteract the nine nazgul. It's the power of the number."  
  
"A fat lot that'll do," cried Gloin, who had remained very quiet throughout the council, "Nine travellers on foot, versus nine armed wraiths on horses. Does anyone here else spot the advantage?" He avoided making eye contact with his son for a few moments.  
  
"Gandalf, I'm worried," said Frodo to the grim old wizard beside him, amidst the noise, "Do they really think this girl from another world will guarantee our success and survival? I would rather trust Strider."  
  
"As would I, my young hobbit, but we should not doubt the words of Lord Glorfindel. He is wise and experienced. He knows what he's talking about. Yet there could be a mistake. If we should bring the girl here, we would need a tremendous amount of power. And that would mean magic. Elrond cannot afford to use magic, as there is a risk he could expose himself, and all of Rivendell to Sauron's watchful gaze. He would be putting Rivendell in danger."  
  
"But if this girl would mean we win—"  
  
"—The final decision lies with Elrond, my dear Baggins, you should not concern yourself with it. If this girl is as strong as the prophecy says, then she could be a strong ally in the time to come. Then I would not mind to having her in the fellowship. A lady! It would make a change, someone to cook, clean, darn my socks . . ."  
  
And he dazed into reverie. Frodo continued to sit and look worried at everything, and topping it off with a small yet adorable pout.  
  
A few yards away, Elrond was doing the same (minus the pout). In the face of his worries, this had seemed to good to be true, but there was always the risk of endangering Rivendell if he used powerful magic with his ring. This girl would be the end of his worries, a guarantor! It sounded too good to be true. Perhaps it was. Yet even a wise man will enter a gingerbread house when he needs food and shelter, taking care to step over the booby traps . . .  
  
But if it would mean that Frodo . . .  
  
The young halfling had endured too much. Elrond felt guilty every time he thought about the morgul wound Frodo had received. How many more hurts would he have to endure? The ring was a burden, and he had already suffered too much. He owed Frodo. At least he could give him his survival, with this Avaniel, even if it meant putting himself at risk.  
  
"I have decided." He spoke suddenly. The crowd fell silent almost instantly. Glorfindel stepped forward nervously.  
  
"Well, then, lord Elrond, what is your decision?"  
  
"We will Summon this girl, this 'Avaniel', and allow her to join the fellowship, even though it means we will have ten. I feel this is the right thing to do. It would be wrong if we did not grasp this opportunity." A few murmured in agreement. "How will this portal work?" he said, turning back to Glorfindel.  
  
"Well, it basically creates a vortex from the weather in the sky which breaks the barriers between worlds. The vortex will seek her out and bring her to us. But the book says we have to lure her."  
  
"Lure her?! We will have to trick her into coming here? That sounds very dishonest. And I do not like the idea of a vortex. It sounds dangerous."  
  
Glorfindel could see Elrond was already beginning to have doubts.  
  
"No, no, it is nothing of the sort. She will know she is coming here; it is her Destiny to come here and save the world, but it will also be her destiny to fall in love."  
  
"With whom?"  
  
"An eligible Elven bachelor, of course! He will need to stand at the other end of the portal, it is important that he is the first thing she sees of this world, as this will remind her of her destiny. Then she will travel through the portal."  
  
Elladan and Elrohir, who had heard the conversation all too clearly about the Elven bachelor bit, slipped through a side door and vanished.  
  
Elrond thought for a moment. He had not seen his sons disappear.  
  
"Bachelor . . ." he muttered to himself, "Elven bachelor. Ah ha!" he cried, "Elladan, Elrohir! Come here and do something good for the sake of Middle Earth!"  
  
But they were gone. His first choice was gone. His eyes swept around the council members, searching for another eligible Elven bachelor. Then it inexplicably landed on the representative of the realm of Mirkwood, the son of King Thranduil.  
  
"Legolas Thranduillion." He said simply. The young elf squirmed. "You know what it is I ask of you. Will you do it for the land you love?"  
  
The elf sighed.  
  
"I am willing to do anything for the land I love." He said, "and I will commit myself to this girl, if she really is fairer than Luthien and the Evenstar. I will protect her and dote on her with my life."  
  
There was a murmur of approval from the crowd.  
  
Young people nowadays, Elrond thought mentally, they'd do anything for show.  
  
"Very well then, Lord Glorfindel, prepare the vortex. Will it need a spell, or just raw magic?"  
  
"You will need to chant a spell."  
  
"I am no wizard, why not Mithrandir?"  
  
"The vortex will be based in the air, not in fire." Said Glorfindel simply. No one else except perhaps Gandalf understood this statement. No one else knew who had the rings of power. Gandalf stepped forward.  
  
"I will aid you, lord Elrond. But you will have to perform the magic yourself." He said. Elrond nodded.  
  
"Very well then," he said, raising his voice to a commanding tone, "Glorfindel, get everything ready."  
  
It was not long before everything was prepared. There was a large star symbol, chalked onto the stone patio under Elrond's feet. He stood at the edge of the star. The council remained seated in a circle, watching precariously. Only Gandalf seemed to be at ease. He sat watching patiently, as Glorfindel scattered reddish spicy-smelling herbs in the centre of the circle-star.  
  
"Glorfindel?" said Elrond nervously, as if tottering on his two feet, "will this endanger Rivendell? You know I cannot use Vilya." He asked, taking care to replace the word 'me' with 'Rivendell'  
  
"Fear not. You could perform the spell with three twigs, tree sap and a toadstool, out in the wild. This is merely tradition. It's a placebo." He said, indicating the star design on the floor. Elrond acknowledged this, but it did not comfort him.  
  
He stepped forward when all was done, breathing heavily, grasping the open book in his hand. His finger directing the page, his lips murmured the mantra that would bring Susie to Middle Earth. He traced each syllable, and never stopped thinking about how silly this was. The words were Quenya, but the true meaning of the verses was quite unknown to him. This is the right thing to do, he told himself over and over again.  
  
Then, quite suddenly, he felt a breeze.  
  
It was a calm, cooling breeze, and he paused momentarily before starting again, speaking each word out aloud with all the force and power he could muster. The breeze increased into a strong wind, and it circulated around the circle of people, blowing people's hair against their faces. It continued to increase in intensity, but the council members remained in their seats, unnerved.  
  
He did not notice his foot scuffing the edge of the chalk star diagram, rubbing a corner off the star.  
  
At the other end, in another world, the wind changed direction.  
  
Elrond continued speaking, though he could hardly hear himself, and on the last syllable, the gale-like wind circulated one last time, before twisting itself into a spiral like form, twirling almost leisurely in the centre of the star diagram, making the crimson herbs rise up in a mini tornado-like formation. The spiral of air rose up, elongating in the stiff air, and there was hush of held breaths from the council. Elrond found the air so taut he could hardly draw breath.  
  
It was definitely tornado defined now. Spiralling into the air, it twisted and turned, as if stumbling over crags in the atmosphere. The twister was at high speed, but Elrond and the others felt only a gentle breeze.  
  
In a sudden burst, it broke into the sky with a silent, earth-shattering roar, before spiralling back down to earth with twice the voltage. It was glowing now, radiating an eerie light, the sort that lighting casts on a midnight sky.  
  
"Legolas!" Glorfindel cried out, as the electrifying portal stopped dead in the centre of the chalk star, though it continued to spin on itself, "Stand ready to receive the girl! She will come through any minute!"  
  
"I am ready." He said, with a grim determination to his voice.  
  
Rivendell waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
And waited some more.

* * *

"My, this IS some British weather." Mr. Ashleigh remarked irritably. His umbrella had just been turned outward again, and he tried to put it back, while the rain lashed down all the time.  
  
For the latecomers outside, trying to get to the school building was becoming a battle of will. It was taking great strength just to stand up straight against the wind, which was quickly turning into a gale. But no, the 36-year-old teacher thought, hurricanes just didn't happen in England. There was a huge crack of lightning. He jumped.  
  
Susie said nothing. She had seen the signs. And it didn't surprise her one bit when a huge gust of wind twisted away just inches from where she was standing, and coil into a twister. She closed her eyes and felt the wind rustle through her hair, making it billow out dramatically in a veil of gold.  
  
She heard the girl Ginny scream behind her when she saw the mini tornado in the air. It must have seemed quite terrifying to passer-bys. And all the time, the twister was descending to ground level. It grew bigger and bigger, and faster and faster, in an unnatural way.  
  
She knew it was coming for her. Her sixth sense told her so. Her seventh sense told her so as well, but she never paid attention to that one.  
  
Now would be the time to meet her destiny. Her eyes followed the descent of the snake-like tornado. It was like a stream of fabric, entirely made of air. It seemed to radiate light. It was a wormhole.  
  
When Ginny screamed again, Mr. Ashleigh finally saw what was going on.  
  
And so did everyone else.  
  
Panic seemed to spill out like an atomic blast over the teenagers and teacher, who tried to remember (calmly of course) what to do in emergency situations (apart from remaining calm). He failed, needless to say.  
  
"OK, everybody, REMAIN CALM!" he yelled, but it would have been a miracle if anybody heard him. The wind had accelerated to such a speed that all noise was drowned out. Students and teachers from inside the school had come out to see what was going on. No doubt they had a nasty shock.  
  
"Fucking HELL!" Susie heard one boy remark, and even that was drowned out by the vortex, which was stumbling and twitching through the air. It all looked like something out of the X-Files.  
  
The upside-down whirlpool of air snaked through the sky, and then it came to the ground, lying on its side, still, the other end spiralling back into the heavens. Susie was somewhat reminded of the Wizard of Oz. The opening was large enough to walk through, but all she could see through it was sheen of rippling water. It was too bright to see through.  
  
She stepped forward, ignoring the shouts from her schoolmates when they realised what she was going to do.  
  
The vortex twitched as she approached, moving a little temperamentally, but she ignored it.  
  
"NO!" she heard Ginny yell behind her, but she ignored that as well.  
  
She neared the mouth of the vortex, which was still twitching, shielding her eyes against the glare, and quite suddenly, she saw a face.  
  
It was the face of a young man, a beautiful, almost dazzling young man with blond hair and bright eyes. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. She was drawn to him. Feeling a curious sensation in her abdomen and a racing pulse in her chest, her feet placed themselves one in front of the other and she walked gracefully into the opening of the vortex.  
  
And then it twitched again, like a hiccough. For a moment, Susie was dazed, but she continued walking.  
  
The vortex gave a violent jerk.  
  
Her foot caught at the edge of an eddy of wind, and she found herself hurled backward against the ground. She gave a small cry, and her head fell back against cold stone ground with a hard violent sound. She was unconscious.  
  
Screams of terror erupted around the schoolyard. They increased, as the twister started moving again. It was flaying out of control -- something had gone wrong. It snaked and writhed, like a fireman's hosepipe, while Mariah-Susannah lay unconscious on the tarmac, a trickle of blood seeping out from under her hair.  
  
Amidst the panic and terror of the teachers and students, both of which were trying to flee the scene, the girl Ginny tried to reach Susie. She couldn't see, because her hair was being blown against her face, and she tripped over her bicycle continuously. All around her was the sound of the howling wind, and a violent whooshing sound.  
  
Then quite suddenly, Ginny felt herself being lifted from the ground.  
  
First of all, she thought, 'I must be dead', and then 'this is a dream', and finally, 'maybe I've been taking drugs without knowing it, and I'm currently on a High.'  
  
But there was no mistaking it. She was being dragged into the eddy of wind that was the brilliant vortex. Desperately holding onto her violin, she wrapped an ankle around her bike, hoping the weight would drag her down.  
  
She knew it wasn't working when she saw her bicycle being lifted off the ground with her, her stripy sock caught in the chain.  
  
This isn't happening, she reminded herself feverishly, at least, not happening to me. Did the vortex come for Susie? I always knew there was something about Mary, or Susie, or whatever her name is this week.  
  
She tried to scream, but gave up, seeing as there was no point and no one to hear her; and she had one last look of her school, which was now deserted, apart from an unconscious Mary-Sue on the ground, before the portal swallowed her up completely, weights and all, and she began her journey to, and through, Middle Earth.  
  
Oh what the hell, Ginny thought, and screamed as loud as she could.  
  
Susie awoke to a splitting headache. She allowed herself a ladylike whimper, but there was no one to hear her. Her head spun round as she tried to see anyone near. The grounds were completely empty. Not surprising really, seeing as what had just happened. In the distance, she could faintly hear the sound of a fire engine. Her fists clenched by themselves.  
  
It was not difficult to understand what had just happened. Ginny was gone, as well as that squeaky bike of hers and the black violin case. Susie rubbed her head to ease the pain, and saw that her hands were covered in blood from her head injury. There was not a lot of blood, but the pain was dull and throbbing.  
  
Damn that girl. How dare she steal someone else's Destiny?! Her breathing became ragged as she thought about it. This was unfair. She could imagine the fool now, cavorting in HER paradise land, meeting the man that was to be HER lover, hers.  
  
A new feeling inspired within Mary Sue. She had just been robbed of her legacy and destiny by a fool of a girl who could not win a beauty pageant for bovines, and had the magical power of an ant in a jar of jam, not to mention the fact she couldn't defend herself for her life. She was totally unfit! Yet it was SHE went through the portal!!  
  
Mary Sue was feeling murderous.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	2. Dropping In

Part 2:  
  
When asked later about it, Virginia M. Lewis would only say that the journey through the portal was 'bumpy', 'illuminating' and also 'too bright'. There was no memory or recollection of the experience, and the only thing she really remembered was falling.  
  
*  
  
Lord Elrond watched offhandedly as a girl fell with a small shriek through the air in front of him, to land with a dull 'thud' on the ground with the star symbol; Narrowly missing Legolas, who stood there white-faced as the girl lay slumped on her front, unmoving.  
  
He accepted the polite applause from the spectators, who had bent round to get a better view of the girl. They couldn't quite see her properly, because her dark wet hair covered her face. She wore a thin white shirt and strange black breeches, and very strange footwear. She was also soaked with rain.  
  
The girl groaned, lifting her head slightly off the floor, which seemed softer than she remembered it. Was granite always this hard? But she didn't have time to speculate, because, the portal was not finished transporting.  
  
As if spitting out a leftover, the effervescent halo produced a large black case, which fell through the air to land on the girl's head with another dull thud.  
  
It rolled away, emitting a hollow musical note as well as the sound of twanging strings. A few people found themselves moving away from it.  
  
"Ow." Was all she said. There was a thick pause, and then another object came through the glowing vortex, in a sort of hiccough. It fell on top of her, and appeared to be a large animal skeleton made of metal. But this animal had metal wheels, which were spinning slowly as it bounced off her back. There was a scuffle as everyone tried to move back to his seats.  
  
"Ow." The girl said again. Ginny lay for a few moments trying to think of a logical explanation for everything that had just happened in the last few minutes. Needless to say, she failed. The only conclusion she came up with was that she was in pain.  
  
Taking the initiative nod from Elrond, Legolas moved forward nervously. The girl did not seem to be hurt, she did not fall from a great height, but she wasn't moving very much. He prodded her gently in the small of her back with a finger. The slumped figure groaned and rolled over.  
  
"Girl?" he whispered quietly in the Common Tongue, "Are you awake?"  
  
Ginny blinked. What did that man just say? It was not English. God he sounded so damn sexy. It stirred thrills in her stomach. She didn't understand a word of it though. It sounded like German, or Spanish. But it wasn't, she'd done German at school. What language was he talking in? For a moment she forgot where she was, then remembered she didn't KNOW where she was. She was definitely not at her school. She sat up stiffly.  
  
The council watched her, holding their breaths, preparing themselves for beauty surpassing the Evenstar and Luthien.  
  
When she shook back her hair to reveal her face, there were some screams.  
  
Even Elrond was taken aback. The girl would have been quite nice-looking, if she wasn't wearing those glass eyes over her normal ones. Metal wire held little round panes of glass to her head. When the light reflected off it, it looked like she had bug's eyes.  
  
"What!" Ginny yelled at them when she saw them shrink back, "What's wrong? Where am I? Who the hell are you creeps?!" she exclaimed at the people who looked as if they were at some party or film set. Man, these people, correction, these MEN were gorgeous! They must be film stars or something. So how did she get here?  
  
"Excuse me?" she tried again, "I think I'm lost. Could you tell me how to get to Mansfield high School?"  
  
Legolas stared at the girl for a moment. Then he leant over to Elrond.  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
"I have no idea." Was the reply.  
  
Ginny was annoyed. Why were they whispering about her like that, and in another language too? All she wanted now was to get back.  
  
"HEL-LO!? Can you tell me how to get back to my school? I was there a moment ago, and some weird tornado sucked me up like Dorothy, except it got the wrong Dorothy. It's just that, you know, this doesn't normally happen to me and I'm very sorry to intrude in whatever film you're making." She said as calmly as she could manage, doubting very much they would believe her.  
  
Come to think of it, this did NOT look like a film set. Where were the cameras for instance? The furniture was genuinely antique and the trees that dotted this sunlit patio were natural growing.  
  
So where was she?  
  
"Gandalf, in what language is she talking in? It all sounds like nonsense to me." Elrond called to the old wizard across the patio, his eyes still fixed on the untidy girl in front of him. Ginny was alerted to find that not all the men here were gorgeous film stars. There was that old man in grey, and those little children in a corner.  
  
"I have not heard it before," he replied, "But it does sound very familiar. I do believe it is our own language, Westron."  
  
"Then why can we not understand a word she is saying?"  
  
"That confuses me too."  
  
"But I thought the Star would be able to understand our language," cried Glorfindel in an offended manner, "It says in the book that she can even speak Elven tongues, as well as being able to communicate with animals!"  
  
"Perhaps I could use a language charm," Gandalf said thoughtfully, "It would not hurt, then at least we would know what obscenities she is currently mouthing at us."  
  
"I think that is the best way." Agreed Glorfindel.  
  
Ginny had taken to using all the swear words she knew, but their reaction was always the same: blank indifference. They seemed to be expecting her here, and expecting her to do something, yet fear and apprehension were in their faces. Ginny wouldn't have been surprised if they had intentionally brought her here, which they probably did.  
  
The old man in grey walked over to her, muttered some words slowly in his own language, as if she could understand a word of what he was saying. Then he brought out his stick, no, not a stick. Ginny, on seeing him immediately thought of Albus Dumbledore, though Dumbledore used a wand.  
  
It was a wooden staff. He touched her forehead briefly with the end and muttered some more meaningless words and then:  
  
"Can you understand me, girl?" the old man said, quite clearly and slowly, in a perfect British accent.  
  
"YOU CAN SPEAK ENGLISH!!" she yelled at the man, making her head hurt a lot more, since she had banged it against the floor, "WHO THE FREAKIN' HELL ARE YOU FREAKS?! WHERE THE HELL AM I?"  
  
The man raised a hand.  
  
"Calm down, girl." He snapped, trying not to look at the glass windows that rested on her nose, "I have used magic so now we can understand each other's tongue. I am Gandalf the Grey and this is the Council of Elrond. We summoned you here in order to seek your aid in our plight against the Dark Lord."  
  
"Mm hm." Said Ginny, nodding as if he had just said ' bananas grow on trees.' Her head was swivelling around to look at the scenery, bending down as if to peek under the chairs. Gandalf followed her behaviour curiously, watching her as she peered around bushes and snooped under the trees.  
  
"Ok," she said after a while, "It's been very funny so far, and I don't have a clue how you managed to pull it all off, but the game is up now, so stop. Now, where are the hidden cameras?"  
  
"Camm-raaz?" this girl sure talked funny.  
  
"Oh come on! It's not funny anymore! I was really scared back there! I mean, I love Tolkien, and this is a very good Rivendell, but I am really late for school, and I'll get another detention, which I can't afford. So can you just show we the way out, and I'll collect the prize another day. You can send it to me in the post."  
  
From the look on his face, Ginny surmised that 'Gandalf' had understood less than a half of what she had just said.  
  
"Lemme out, okay?" she said, exasperated.  
  
"But we need you to save Middle Earth!" Elrond cried out.  
  
"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" she yelled again, "God, are you retards? I just want to get back to school. I see you're all Tolkienists, and I'm very glad to meet you, because I enjoy Tolkien stuff myself, but you couldn't have pulled a prank at a worse time. Most shows have to decency to do it after school time. And you are?"  
  
"Lord Elrond Peredhil," said Elrond.  
  
"Pleasure." Ginny replied pleasantly, devoid of anything else to say. He might as well have been called Ron Weasley.  
  
"Listen to me, girl," Gandalf cried, his patience waning "The fate of Middle Earth may lie in your hands. Do not joke! Accept your destiny! We need you to join the Fellowship!"  
  
"I think you're taking this a bit too far you know," Ginny cowered, moving back. She had obviously landed in a crowd of madmen, gorgeous, yes, but madmen. They were actually acting out the Fellowship! And they wanted her to join! What happened to Naturally Nine?  
  
And then she caught sight of the child, a little curly-haired blue-eyed boy, sitting down and looking wistfully at her. He was not a child.  
  
"H-hobbit?" she asked quavering at Frodo, who watched with great curiosity. He stepped forward.  
  
"Lady, I am Frodo Baggins of the Shire, and now Ringbearer. I plead you to aid us in our Quest. You are strange and . . . fair . . . and possess many powers beyond us. You can guarantee our success!"  
  
Ginny was in shock. Prosthetic feet, ears or even noses could not accomplish this. This was a hobbit. There was no doubt about it. He was pure hobbit. She bent down and poked his feet. They were genuine, and very dirty. This was Frodo Baggins. This was Frodo Baggins, the hobbit.  
  
She gave a sound something like a shriek crossed with a whimper, bred with something that sounded like 'nhuhnrrr'. She tripped and fell backward onto the ground, slumped in a heap on the floor.  
  
"I think she's fainted Gandalf." Said Frodo wistfully.  
  
"It's probably the shock. I'm sure as soon as she accepts it, she will come to her senses, and finally we can get somewhere."  
  
Glorfindel meanwhile, was rummaging through the pages of the green book, as if completely oblivious to the unconscious girl lying on the ground. He was frowning at the diagrams on the page.  
  
A few elves came forward and tried to pick her up and prop her on some chairs, but she gave a snort and sat up again.  
  
"Argh, I can never faint. It's too hard." She said to no one in particular, and then looking at her surroundings said, "Oh crap."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I think I get it now."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes. I'm having a dream. I don't think it's a bad dream, yet, but I would like to see Lothlorien before I go. I've always loved trees. Am I an elf?"  
  
Elrond raised an eyebrow at Gandalf, who shrugged, but did not say anything.  
  
Legolas, who had built up his courage, walked over to the girl and pulled her glasses off her face, and inspected the metal frames and tried them on (upside down) himself. He gave a small cry and took them off very quickly, rubbing his eyes afterwards.  
  
"What sorcery is this?"  
  
"Yeah, they are rather strong, but they help me see, see? I can't do much without them. Are you an elf?" Then she saw his ears. Delicate pale leaf- shaped ears with a point at the tip. She whimpered a little. This was completely real. She was really in Middle Earth. In that case, she thought to herself, I might as well enjoy myself while I can.  
  
Glorfindel had stepped forward.  
  
"Are you aware of your Destiny?" he said to her, as if interrogating her.  
  
"What Destiny?"  
  
"Your Destiny to come here?"  
  
"I have a Destiny?! Damn, are you handsome."  
  
"Do you have any magical powers?" he continued, ignoring her remark.  
  
"N-no. not that I'm aware of." She said nervously.  
  
"Mm hm. And you do have any skill with weapons, or any fighting?"  
  
"Well, I had one session of karate once, but that was it. I can't fight really; it's all due to poor reflexes. I can't really fight, unless it's kicking boys where it hurts. Um . . . no."  
  
Glorfindel sighed sadly to himself, but continued in his formal fashion.  
  
"Can you talk to animals?"  
  
"Nope. Why do you ask?"  
  
The Elven lord straightened up to face Elrond.  
  
"The portal has indeed worked . . ." he said, and there was a slight cheer, " . . . but there is a small but important problem. This is not the destined girl. I have no idea who she is, but I think she is merely a commoner, a passer-by. The real Avaniel is still back in her own world, her destiny now unfulfilled. This girl can hardly be called beautiful, has no powers, cannot fight and has no particular strengths of use."  
  
"WHAT?!" Ginny cried, "So you brought me here on purpose!"  
  
"Not you." He said without looking at her.  
  
"Fine, fine. So I'm just an average girl, not Ms. Mary-Sue. But I'M the one who gets sent to Middle Earth. ME! And suddenly, you're all so disappointed that I don't have magical powers or the beauty of the Evenstar. Why didn't you just bring lil' miss perfect Susie?!"  
  
"We were intending to, but there was an accident."  
  
"Oh," She said sadly, "So I'm completely useless? Well let me tell you this, Mr. Glorfindel, I know more about you than you think! I've read the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings AND this Silmarillion, and I'm the one who knows exactly what will happen to Middle Earth. I know that with me or without me, you will succeed! There was no need to bring me here! Your quest will be successful, goddamnit, just not exactly in the way you think! You don't need me! There was no point in bringing me here! So get on with your life and send me back!"  
  
Glorfindel looked sheepish.  
  
"I'm afraid we can't."  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"There is no spell for sending you back."  
  
"Then use the one you did to get me here."  
  
"It will not work the other way."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"It's rather like a hollow reed. You can suck through one end and water and will flow only one way."  
  
"Couldn't you just blow the other way?" she muttered, knowing in her heart it was hopeless. She knew a Mary-Sue when she saw one. She had read enough of them already.  
  
"So now I'm stuck here?" Her voice cracked.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh." She sank down on a vacant chair. This had been a bad day.  
  
"I am grievously sorry."  
  
"Hmm. And this is the real Middle Earth, not just a dream, I take it."  
  
"My utmost apologies . . ."  
  
"Yeah, tell me one thing though, Glorfindel."  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Which one is Legolas, son of Thranduil?"  
  
"I am," Said Legolas, stepping forward.  
  
"You're blond," she said, as if in amazement. He was blond, not blond- blond; it was a sort of nutty blond colour.  
  
"I am not exactly fair haired like Lord Glorfindel, but my hair is fairer than most." He said, his eyes fixed on her, as if seeing if she would cry.  
  
"And your father was blond."  
  
"My father is golden-haired, yes, but not blond. My mother was though."  
  
"That explains how Vanyarin blood got into the house of Oropher."  
  
Legolas was stunned.  
  
"How do you know all this? I thought you were not the Star!"  
  
"Hey, like I've said, I've read the Silmarillion as well as Lord of the Rings, which are fictional books with all of you in." she said almost defiantly, only wishing it were true.  
  
"We are in a fictional book?"  
  
"Either that, or somehow, J.R.R Tolkien came to this world long ago, wrote down all that he had seen and learnt, came back and published it as a fictional book and now I have come to the world, and the story is repeating itself. Which I think means I can't tell you what happens next or it'll upset the flow of time." All this was spoken with rattlesnake speed.  
  
She received many black stares. Normally, she would have been glad if someone gave her the opportunity to come to Middle Earth. To live life rustically, like in the olden days where there was no industry and the air was clear! But now, it became apparent to her just what Lord of the Rings was all about. War, doom, and Death. She couldn't face that.  
  
"Ah, what the hell. Boromir, whoever you are, don't join the Fellowship or you'll die at Rauros!" she yelled. 


	3. Complicating Matters

[Note to Blablover5: yes, I guess the 'charm' bit that Gandalf was talking about WAS a bit of Harry Potter emerging. Thanks for noticing. I don't think it is a very middle earthy term, but I can't change it now anyway. I'll try and be more careful in future.]  
  
Part 3  
  
Susie rapped hard on the oaken door of number 66, St. Matthews Street. She was soaked and her clothes were tatty from running. The rain had stopped now but it hadn't done much good.  
  
"Gran'mamma!" she called urgently. This was her last chance. After running away from the school grounds, Susie had got home, but her mother was out. She had no phone and no money. She felt vulnerable, as if in another world, and she had cursed herself for her weakness. If it hadn't been for that bitch Ginny, she WOULD be in another world, as she was supposed to be. It was decreed in her destiny. So she was sour.  
  
"Grandmamma!" she yelled again.  
  
The door opened to reveal an aged lady, smiling sweetly down her granddaughter. She was wearing what seemed to be entirely composed of black and silver gauzy shawls and a black lace cap on her sleek hair. She must have been quite old, but her spinal cord was still upright, and her wavy long golden blonde hair showed no sign of greying.  
  
She appeared proud, like a queen, and wore no jewellery except for a silver neckband around her throat. Susie's grandmother would not have been out of place in a fairytale, or even a L'Oreal advert. Her skin would put wrinkle cream and foundation companies out of business. From long distance, she LOOKED about thirty-five.  
  
"LaRose! It's such a surprise!" she cried happily upon seeing her little girl, and then, clutching her shawls closer to her, she said in a more formal tone, "Why are you out of school? Where is your good-for-nothing mother?" she pointed at Susie, "Your head is bleeding!"  
  
"Gran'mamma, please, don't call me that. Let me in. It has happened, and something has gone wrong. Let me in!"  
  
The lady stood aside and the two went inside to the small lounge at the end of the gothic hallway.  
  
The room and the house were exactly as Susie remembered it: like a fortuneteller's tent crossed with Windsor castle.  
  
The light coming from the windows was dull and dim, and the curtains were velvety. Susie would never forget the pot-pourri smell that lingered on them. It made her nauseous, and she forgot about being angry at Ginny for the moment.  
  
She sat down on the velvet pouf couch and Grandmamma left the room for a moment to come back with two cups of English tea, biscuits and a bandage for Susie's head.  
  
"I've already phoned your school. You've had an accident and won't be able to come in anytime soon."  
  
"What did they say?"  
  
"Nothing. It was an answering machine. I don't know where the receptionists have all gone. It's so hard to find the right staff these days." She shook her head, making her golden hair bounce delightfully.  
  
Of course, thought Susie dismally, they all fled when the wormhole-thingy came and sucked up Ginny.  
  
Only when she had tied on the dressing and filled her granddaughter with Tetley and digestives, would grandmamma allow her granddaughter to talk.  
  
"So, what has happened?" she said calmly, pouring herself another cup from the china teapot.  
  
Susie took a breath.  
  
"My Destiny has revealed itself to me."  
  
Grandmamma froze and in a tone that could freeze the pacific,  
  
"WHY are you STILL HERE?" it wasn't exactly a shout, more of a reprimand, but Susie was trembling.  
  
"Oh, something terrible has happened!!!" Susie cried passionately, her ornate shiny hair spilling over her face as she put her head in her hands.  
  
The lady sitting cross-legged opposite her raised a perfect golden eyebrow.  
  
"I was Summoned," Susie said, her voice quavering.  
  
"So why did you not go?"  
  
"I-it, I was thrown back, something went wrong. Another girl went instead!" she cried bitterly.  
  
"Another girl?" she said casually, with the air of someone who is sharpening a knife while you are helplessly bound to a crucifix. She continued:  
  
"You have been trained in 7 different kinds of martial arts, yet another girl was sent? You have been trained to use a sword, an axe, a longbow and crossbow and every kind of weapon imaginable, and another girl was sent? I have educated you myself in the art of magic, spells, and even telepathy, making you a powerful sorceress, yet it is not you who goes to your Destiny? You, who are fairer than all and wiser and more kind faced, yet you were cheated! BY A COMMON GIRL!!!"  
  
Susie was numb in her seat.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Sorry? Do you know who I am?!" she cried vehemently, her shawls unfastening by themselves.  
  
The 15-year-old shook her head.  
  
"I am the direct descendant of Elves." Grandmamma said calmly, "I'm sure you know all about Elves."  
  
Nod, nod.  
  
"My ancestor was the Elven daughter of Elrond and Galadriel. She was part- human and part-Elf," she said, "and part unicorn, you know." She added proudly.  
  
Nod, nod, though this time a little daunted.  
  
"Do you know my true name?"  
  
"I thought your name was LaRose. Mum said I was named after you."  
  
The old lady scoffed.  
  
"My name is Unadrieniel Sadriethiel Unithrawen." she said airily, and then "I think, that I shall tell you exactly what our history and purpose is."  
  
She sat down and began. Susie had not said a word. She was fiddling with a hole in her sweater.  
  
"None knows when the First began. All we know is that we must continue the line. Most think the first Star was the Elven daughter of Elrond and Galadriel. She was so beautiful, that many loved her, but Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil won her heart. She saved him countless times from death, and their love were stronger than that between Luthien and Beren.  
  
"Like you, I was summoned. I went and joined the Fellowship, of course, you know all about the Fellowship."  
  
Susie didn't answer. Grandmamma continued, her eyes glazing over in the traditional misty fashion.  
  
"I fulfilled my Destiny . . . and I fell in love. Of course, I remained in Middle Earth, but then I did something terrible."  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"All of my predecessors remained in Middle Earth until they died. They married, had children, the usual."  
  
"Married whom?"  
  
Her head snapped up.  
  
"That is none of your concern." She said curtly, but continued, "I did a terrible thing. You see, unlike my predecessors, I was not born in Middle Earth."  
  
"So where were you born?"  
  
"It is more a question of ~when~." was the reply, "I was born here, in the present day, well, if you call the present day 1942. I, of course, went to Middle Earth and fulfilled my Destiny, completed my task, and found the man of my dreams. I had a child. And then I grew homesick."  
  
"You returned?"  
  
"I shouldn't have."  
  
"How?"  
  
"It was the wrong thing to do. I brought your mother; my daughter, here and everything seemed perfect. Middle Earth could not compare to cities and towns, where nothing was a shortage! But then, when it was time for your mother to seek her destiny . . . "  
  
The lady sighed.  
  
" . . . she declined it. She refused to go. And so disaster began to strike. She got married, not to an Elf, but to a mortal, and one with the most disgusting name-"  
  
"-'Tom' is not a disgusting name-"  
  
". . . and such a common status!"  
  
"-There's nothing wrong with being a door-to-door window salesman-"  
  
"And I feared for you, born in the present day, that you may decline your fate."  
  
"But I didn't decline it, it was stolen from me."  
  
"We shall see," Unadrieniel Sadriethiel Unithrawen laughed quietly, "You must be proud of what you are, LaRose. You are exceptional; you are unique, and not just like everybody else, but truly special. Your whole life has been mapped out in the Stars. You are the Chosen One."  
  
"To fight vampires?" she quizzed.  
  
"Possibly, possibly," she said, "You are, after all, capable of many things. It was your Destiny to go through that portal, like so many before you. It is very important that you do. They are expecting you."  
  
"But I told you, Ginny went instead, she somehow got sucked in. Something went wrong on the other side; I felt it. I was hurled back, that's how I hurt my head."  
  
"And you're going to give up, just like that? Let that sow Ginny steal your legacy??" she said, her voice suddenly acquiring a new level of sternness. It had a hollow echo to it, which increased with every word.  
  
"Grandma!"  
  
The lady paused.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I can't go. I told you. Ginny went instead. The portal closed up. There's no one to receive me on the other end." She said, suppressing the anger that was previously building up inside her.  
  
The lady smirked slightly.  
  
"Who any anything about needing a reception?"  
  
Susie was momentarily dumbstruck.  
  
"You're going to *send* me into Middle Earth?!" she cried, standing up, "HOW?"  
  
*~*~*  
  
"It's all a matter of finding the right magic," said Glorfindel (Who was in Rivendell, for those who may be confused.)  
  
"The right spell, indeed! No more, Glorfindel, no more. It was a mistake in the first place." Elrond paced his study. It was a while after the council. After everyone had left, Elrond had had a small private meeting in his study with Glorfindel and Gandalf. Aragorn was there as well, sitting (lurking would be a better word) in a shady corner. There had been some dispute earlier on as to whether he was invited or not.  
  
"How is the Steward's son, Estel-er-Aragorn? How is the Gondorian envoy?" he asked, sitting down behind his large desk, rubbing his temples furiously.  
  
"Boromir? He is recovering," said Aragorn, "I broke up the council as you asked. Everyone is now returned to his or her chambers, or on the Common. I believe Boromir will be all right. He has strong nerves. I do not think he would refuse the Fellowship now. It is far to late to turn back, even for death premonitions."  
  
"And the girl?"  
  
"Erestor says she is being looked after by a nurse. She is safe."  
  
Elrond sighed.  
  
"I had thought it was too good to be true, Glorfindel. And it turns out it was."  
  
"But you have to admit, the spell DID work." The golden haired elf said, a little sheepishly, "just not in the way that you wanted . . . or expected."  
  
"It was rather spectacular, I admit. She brought quite a few strange objects with her. Do you think they could be weapons?"  
  
"No," said Gandalf, "I do not believe this girl capable of possessing weapons. She seems rather frail. You saw what she was like when we told her who we were and where this place was. I cannot imagine her, for example, meeting an orc or goblin."  
  
"Yet she seemed to know of our existence. Our names were familiar to her." Said Glorfindel earnestly, "She only refused to believe in it. Didn't she say that we featured in a fictional book in her world?"  
  
"I most highly resent that," said Elrond, "I have enough books and poems written about me, but never one that claimed I was fictional when I am here in flesh and blood!"  
  
"So the matter is, what should we do with her?" there was a pause.  
  
"And also how do we get the right girl here?" the golden-haired Elf lord mused.  
  
"NO, Glorfindel! I'm sorry." Elrond stood up, "No more magic. We will leave the future to fate. Did you not hear what the girl said? With her or without her, we will succeed. If she is certain of it, then so should we. There is no need and no reason we should bring the Lost Star here, even if she is the real one. We will send the other girl back and then-"  
  
"--My lord,"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"There is . . . um . . . there is not . . . it is impossible . . ." he hesitated, "We cannot send her back."  
  
"But she is useless here, to be blunt. She cannot fight . . . she is nothing in comparison to the real Star, who will not be coming here anyway. She could be a liability. And this is not her home. It was wrong of us to bring her here without her permission."  
  
"But my lord, there is no way to conjure a second Portal."  
  
"Oh . . . I see." He sank down back into his chair, "You are sure of this?" the elf nodded. He looked thoroughly dejected.  
  
There was another lengthy pause, filled with much silence.  
  
"But there MUST be a way, she cannot stay here for the rest of her life!" cried Aragorn suddenly.  
  
"If there is, we have yet to find it." Said Glorfindel with some remorse.  
  
"She is a stranger to this world, it is not her home. We brought her here, against her will, it is our duty to return her home!" the ranger landed his fist on an occasional table.  
  
"Calm down, Aragorn. Perhaps," started Elrond, "She could stay here, in Imladris, where she will be safe. She may even be useful to us. And when you return from your mission, my lord Mithrandir, I leave it to you to find a way home for the girl. I do not believe that there is no other way of creating another portal. We will look through that book of yours once more Glorfindel. There must be a return portal somewhere. If needs be, we will have to make our own enchantments to create one."  
  
"I think that would be a good idea." The grey wizard confirmed, nodding his old head, "I vow to use all my energy and sources to find a way home for this girl, once the quest is over."  
  
"We will hold another council, tomorrow, to fully decide the fate of this girl in Middle Earth. I see that she is a matter not to be taken lightly, but there will be no need to invite the lords, or most of the envoys. I am sure they are busy enough. But the Fellowship must be present, as will my household."  
  
"What about the girl?"  
  
"She will be looked after. I may ask Arwen to accompany her, she has been very restless lately and company does her a great deal of good."  
  
He looked around.  
  
"I think that is all." He said.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The birds were twittering. Ginny wondered if they would ever stop. And the waterfall scenery was giving her a severe headache.  
  
No, she loved Rivendell; she had loved it with a passion from the moment she had read about it. She had visualised in some obscure dreams about walking under the glades, perhaps with a certain blond elf-love, yet now she was here, it seemed like some large disappointment.  
  
After her random outburst there had been an eruption of talk. Elrond had to yell 'SILENCE' into the crowd to get them to shut up. Then it was decided that it would be best to break up the council. Slowly everyone started to leave, and Ginny was rather forcefully escorted up some stairways, through a corridor into a large guest chamber. She strongly suspected the door had been locked behind her.  
  
And there she was, sitting rather miserably on an elegant four-poster, too grumpy to explore her surrounds. She had been changed out of her school clothes, which were hanging to dry on the balcony rails; and a maid had been ordered to change her into some new dry garments for her as well, but the young girl had been so terrified of Ginny's glasses that she had left the clothes bundle on the foot of the bed and walk out again without even making eye contact once (apart from a rather nervous glance, which was accompanied by a whimper).  
  
It was a strange feeling:  
  
She was in Middle Earth, yet one side of her brain was still in denial, while another part of her was saying 'Yeah, so what?' to all the facts. She knew she shouldn't have told Boromir about his grisly demise of course. She might have affected the whole flow of causality; after thinking it out, it made sense. If she deterred Boromir from joining the Fellowship, then she would prevent his death; but then, Denethor would never relinquish his power for Aragorn to become king and reunify all the kingdoms, and poor ol' Faramir would never become prince of Ithilien. Middle Earth would still be in turmoil then.  
  
It was all very complicated, and all very unfair.  
  
She had read Lord of the Rings. She had loved the books. She had even read the Silmarillion, and had been planning to move onto Lost Tales. And like every fan girl before her, she had fantasised about Middle Earth. For the first time ever in history, she was here. Everything around her was genuine.  
  
And it was a bit of a disappointment.  
  
It wasn't that Rivendell wasn't beautiful, or that the characters -no, they weren't characters now, they were real people- weren't as she expected. On the contrary, they had been the very epitome of themselves. And she was pleased to find that there was not a particle of nylon anywhere.  
  
It was just . . . it was all so unexpected. If someone back in her world had given her a ticket to Rivendell, she would have accepted without a second thought, but just being brought here without her permission, it made her very, very cross.  
  
Ginny was one of those people who grew up with the foreknowledge that, try as they might, nothing exciting was going to happen to them in this life and an adventure was out of the question; burdened with the doom that after about 20 years of foundation and higher education and an Oxford degree, she could settle down with a nice, worthwhile job.  
  
As an accountant.  
  
It seemed almost humiliating that she of all people should be here.  
  
*  
  
The maid came back with her arms full, and Ginny took off her glasses and put them on a side table. Now everything further than a hand span away from her face was blurry, but at least the maid didn't regard her as a bug-eyed monster anymore.  
  
"I've brought you warm water so you can wash," she said, and Ginny noticed the girl had an accent. She wasn't very familiar with it, Westron was not her first language (surprise, surprise), but the girl spoke differently from how the Elves did, more normal and less . . . noble. The girl was human.  
  
"Thank you," said Ginny, and trying to be gracious and polite, "pray, what is your name?" The words sounded even more stupid now she had said them. Gandalf had said the magic was permanent, but she still couldn't get used to the fact that she could understand and talk a language, which sounded just like English, yet find it so hard.  
  
The girl looked at her curiously before replying:  
  
"I am called Vireth," and Ginny knew that if the name were written down, an accent on the 'i' would be absolutely compulsory.  
  
"That's nice." She said rather feebly. The girl, who looked no older than eighteen, laid out a basin, which was propped on a stand with a large jug of gently steaming water. A white towel hung on the rail.  
  
"Er." She said.  
  
"Is there a problem?"  
  
"No, but . . . what am I supposed to do?" she asked, blushing.  
  
"The nurse said you were soaked with rain. I thought you might like to wash." The maid smiled kindly.  
  
"Oh. OH. Right. Yes. Thank you. This is like a sponge bath."  
  
"What is a sponge?"  
  
"Nothing that you've heard of before." Ginny muttered under her breath. She was beginning to feel some strange new emotions. She would never have dared say anything under her breath in her own familiar world. In her own world, she was burdened with responsibilities and school grades (of which she always got top).  
  
Now she was in Middle Earth. She processed the thought logically. For one, there was no school. She mentally waved bye-bye to yesterday's art homework. Here, she was free. Free from the oppression that was the British education system; free from the taunts and teasing that she suffered from back home from idiots and materialists like Susie. She had always been so shy in company, fearful of her reputation. Now she had none.  
  
Here, she could do and say whatever she wanted (bearing in mind they were decent and appropriate).  
  
Here, she could be whoever she wanted to be.  
  
She smiled to herself.  
  
Now all she needed was a good Elven name. 


	4. The Sue's Guide to Rivendell

Part 4  
  
From a fairytale point of view, Ginny was not unattractive.  
  
She was quite pretty in average terms. She had large brown eyes, and in her opinion not enough eyelashes, and naturally red lips. She had shoulder length thick black hair. Too thick. Her skin was a sandy oriental colour, and combination, which meant dry skin and greasy skin co-existed in disharmony. But she had a nice face, and she was only a dress size 8.  
  
Okay, so there was the matter of her shortsightedness, the spots on her forehead and the puppy fat in the thighs. Not to mention the stubby thumbs, the hairy arms, the scabby knees and the slight poundage on the buttock caused by lack of exercise and a cyberspace social life. She bit her nails. She had fillings in her teeth. Her bra could do with a bit more padding too.  
  
Overall, she was on average a sort of possibly good-looking, absolutely nothing compared to the Evenstar, but with a promise of becoming good- looking in the distant future. All she needed were some platform shoes, but still, . . . and yet . . .  
  
There was no way she could pass off for an Elf. Ginny sighed and turned the vanity mirror over.  
  
Susie might, but she wouldn't. She wasn't tall enough, for one thing. She'd seen the height of Elrond and Gandalf. She felt like a hobbit.  
  
Ginny suddenly began to feel like she wasn't good enough for Middle Earth. She couldn't fight, or perform magic. She wasn't even beautiful. So what if she knew the fate of Middle Earth? She couldn't tell them about it, because that would change the future and disturb reality blah blah blah. She had always thought of this place as a fantasy realm, and it was. She had always thought of it as better than the real world, and in a way it was. She was just uninvited. And now she couldn't get back to her own home. She would never see her friends or family again.  
  
Yes she would, some part of her mind retorted. This was a story, and in every story, the heroine would live happily ever after, even in fan fiction. She was the heroine. And Dorothy always found her way home. But at least *she* had Toto.  
  
Ah! Said the other part, but this wasn't a story. This was History. Lord of the Rings was a book, but Middle Earth is real. And you're *not* the heroine, you just got dumped here by accident.  
  
Thanks a lot, the opposition replied, you're doing wonders for my self- esteem.  
  
So that meant either one of two things: One, Middle Earth was a parallel universe where magic was a sort of force that naturally inhabited it, and Ginny had travelled to it by some wormhole, or that: Two, Middle Earth and Earth were one and the same and Elves were pre-prehistoric, before Dinosaurs arrived and Ginny had time travelled. Through a wormhole. Hmm. Both theories seemed dumb, but if the latter were correct, then she would be taking part in history. Uh-oh.  
  
Yes, maybe she *did* wrongly pre-warn Boromir of his death, but that was out of pity; she had always cried at his death in the film. It occurred to her that now she was really going to see him die, in person. She shuddered. That is, though, if they let her into the fellowship.  
  
Well, even if they didn't, she was going to get some answers from these people. Tolkien had left many unanswered questions when he died, and she was going to get to the bottom of them.  
  
She wandered to the oaken writing table, and found to her joy, paper had been laid out on the surface. It was yellow and thick, but it was smooth and good for writing. It was probably parchment, like the stuff they used in Harry Potter. There was also an inkwell with a brush pen and a sort of fountain-quill. She grimaced, and took out her biro.  
  
She wrote:  
  
-Is Glorfindel the same Glorfindel as the Glorfindel from Gondolin?  
  
-*What* is Tom Bombadil?  
  
-Which is older, Elves or Ents, or Tom Bombadil?  
  
-WHO was Legolas' mother?  
  
-Where are the Blue Wizards?  
  
-Why are the Valar so cruel?  
  
-Who was Gil-Galad's mother?  
  
-*Where* did Maglor go?  
  
She had puzzled over the last question when she'd read the Silmarillion. Second and last living son of Feanor chucks Silmaril into sea and wanders off into the east, singing. It sounded like something out of Disney. Surely the guy had to be somewhere. She might as well find out. Elrond should know. The guy had practically raised him, while his own father was sailing in the heavens as the star Venus. Hmm.  
  
All this time Vireth had come and gone, and had brought her a lovely dress in substitute for her rain soaked school clothes. She had been particularly interested in Ginny's polyester trousers, and also her shoes, claiming that she had never seen anything like it. Well of course; Ginny had looked and looked, but there was no nylon anywhere, and the sheets were linen and cotton, and the pillows stuffed with real down. Everything here was 100% authentic.  
  
The dress was absolutely beautiful, and must have taken decades to make, but Vireth assured her that it was merely a day-dress and that better clothes were on their way. It was green velvet, with a crinoline under- dress of pale silk. The sleeves were mid-length, and the neckline was sequined, and a bit too tight for comfort. It was rather cramped, and she found herself sweating while trying to tug it on.  
  
"I feel hot." She said, once again surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. It wasn't English to her ears, but she found she could understand it without really having to listen carefully. She was speaking Westron, but she was speaking 21st century English at the same time.  
  
"Well of course. Apparel has to be thick. It's been very chilly until recently."  
  
Vireth had tidied her thick hair like a mother would, commenting occasionally at the shortness of it, and when she felt that she was presentable enough, Ginny put her glasses back on and followed the maid downstairs for lunch in the great hall.  
  
Then she rushed up and grabbed the sheet with all the questions written down on it. Then she went down.  
  
*  
  
It was a simple lunch, which Vireth assured her would be nothing compared to supper, which was also in the great hall.  
  
To her disappointment, she was the only one in the dining hall. Vireth told her that most people had already eaten. Ginny was puzzled, wasn't it only morning when she had come here? Did she really spend that long in that room?  
  
Vireth left and another maid came in at regular intervals, bringing (on silver plates) bread, cheese, boiled eggs, potatoes and carrots, and two small slices of bacon. There was a small bowl of what smelled like chicken soup to go with it all. The maid told her that too much meat was not customary at any formal meal except supper, but she was a guest, and it was her first. Wow. Middle Earth had customs.  
  
The food was bland, but nourishing, and eventually, Ginny finished (she was a very slow eater). She wasn't sure what to do, but another girl came out of what must be the kitchen and took away her leftovers, wiping the tablecloth as she went.  
  
Lucky Elrond! He doesn't even need to do washing up - he has servants to do everything for him! I wonder where they sleep? Do they get paid? How much?  
  
She scribbled it down onto the scrap of paper and went to find Vireth.  
  
The great hall had many entrances, including one that only Elrond knew about (it led to his private study), but one led out onto a sunny patio, where currently, Vireth was weeding a small rock statue. Everything in Imladris was overgrown, and it was a tough job getting rid of unwanted vegetation, but the servants took it in turns. As she tore out the roots of a rather miffed flowering bush, she turned to see Ginny walking over to her.  
  
"Vireth?"  
  
"Yes, Ma'am?" the girl plucked out some dandelion leaves.  
  
Ginny opened her mouth and then stopped. She turned to the girl.  
  
"Not 'Milady'?" she raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Mi-lay-dy??"  
  
"Yeah, why not that?"  
  
"That's for those of high status. And we say my Ladyship when not directly addressing."  
  
"But I'm not old enough to be a 'maam'."  
  
"What would you like to be called then, ma'am?" The girl asked unconcernedly, hefting out some unwanted poppies and breaking the seed heads open. The black grains went into a pouch around her waist. Ginny thought for a moment.  
  
" 'Miss'. " she decided, "but how old are you, Vireth?" Vireth paused and counted in her head.  
  
"I span nineteen winters, but I was born in winter, mind you."  
  
"But that's not right. You're not that far away from my age. You can't call me 'miss' and curtsey and all that."  
  
"Oh I don't mind, it's what I do, it's a living, is'all. I don't even know your name yet. No one's told me. I just work for whoever tells me." She said casually.  
  
"Oh. Well." Ginny had yet to come up with a suitable Elven name. She changed the subject, "Vireth, can you show me around this afternoon? Just, take me around Rivendell, so I can get used to it. I want to explore. It seems like I'll be here for a while"  
  
"Oh, I'm very sorry, um, miss, but I'm busy today. It's laundry day, and I'm the only one who can do the bedding." She brushed away the dirt on the statue of a nude elf, "Tell you what. I will send my brother. He knows all the good views, and he's been absolutely everywhere. He is called Barandor."  
  
*  
  
Barandor turned out to be a rather chirpy twelve-year-old that acted like he was seven. He was rowdy and had an attention span of a goldfish, but was very friendly at the same time. They got on immediately. He gave her a long and interesting anecdote on how he looked after the chickens on their family's farm, which made Ginny feel rather depressed because she was away from her family. But he managed to cheer her up in the end.  
  
First, he took Ginny to a cobbled alleyway near the house where his gang met, a large group of boys ranged from 6 to 177 years old (there were immortals as well). They called Barandor 'Brand', and one of the older boys had given Ginny suggestive looks; which just goes to show that even with time (or dimension), some things never changed.  
  
After watching the boys play 'hitting ball with stick' and 'hitting each other repeatedly in a playful fashion', she told Brand' she was bored. He let her join in their hitting game, and she had to admit, she was very good at it, but then she tried to teach them something a little less violent.  
  
And she made a great and terrible mistake when she said:  
  
"OK, how about I teach you football?"  
  
~  
  
[Eventually, everyone went home, many bruised and some crying for their mommies. The football, which had been made of spare rags tied together, had been abandoned because no one wanted to assume responsibility for the game (or the huge fight that took place afterwards. The 'referee' had been worst hit because he confused the red and yellow cards, and the sidelines kept getting smudged on purpose. No one listened to the rules, and everyone got hit). But they would be back, Ginny knew, they would. Who'd have thought that football would have such an effect on adolescents?]  
  
* The rest of the afternoon passed nicely. Barandor saw that she wanted to see some other places, so he took her somewhere scenic.  
  
"Is that the Bruinen there, Brand'? This place is beautiful!" Ginny cried, as she stepped onto the rocks by the flowing river. Brand' found a dry bit of grass nearby and sat down, taking off his leather shoes. Ginny took off her trainers and waded in the water.  
  
"Yep, these are the Silver Woods, all around here. And there's the river that goes down to the Brandywine, I think. The Elves call it Celebrethil. It's lovely and peaceful at night, and sometimes you see couples coming here by themselves. Always a man and a woman, coming on their own. They're always giggling. In the morning you find a lot of garments on the ground. Me mam says it's shameful, what with them not being arranged, and all. Do you have to arrange garments?"  
  
Ginny looked at him carefully.  
  
"Is that the reason why you brought me here?" she said slowly.  
  
He shrugged, playing with an insect on a twig.  
  
"Dunno, just thought you might like to see it. All the ladies love to come here, but I dunno what they do. It's pretty boring. I suppose that's why they always bring a man. So they can be guarded and have someone to talk to while they darn their clothes, but I dunno why they just don't do it in the daytime. You can't see at night." He said resolutely.  
  
Ginny winced and bit her lip. She wondered whether she should laugh. The boy was so innocent.  
  
"Ah-ha-ha-ha." She managed, weakly.  
  
"What's so funny? Everyone needs to do some sewing sometime. Might as well be here."  
  
***  
  
The tour went around the Rivendell central. Ginny soon learned that Imladris was more than just a pretty house for wearyworn guests. It was an entire community of Elves *and* Men. You could almost call it a town centre. There was even a cemetery for mortal Rivendellians.  
  
He showed her the stables, and the special ones where Elrond's private horses were kept. Ginny saw a fine animal, which she swore was Asfaloth. Then it was a round circuit of the barns, the granary, the hives, and the vineyard and distillery. Barandor, who knew absolutely everybody, managed to bribe some wine off the young overseer, and he and Ginny had had a jug of the finest Elven red wine between them. They made their way back to the House, getting increasingly drunk and swaying uncontrollably.  
  
In a tipsy state, he told her the story of how one day, this cockerel was on the rampage, and he single-handedly subdued it and held it by the neck when no one else would go near it, and he swiped it's head off in one clear sweep. In return, Ginny gave him the story of how she had got here, and how the wormhole had actually sucked up the wrong girl; he listened without hearing, but became interested when she told him about her own world, 'back there'.  
  
"Oh yeah, we have everything back there, not like your backward little fantasy land " she said laughing between sips, "We have things with wings that fly really high and go all over the world."  
  
"Yeah, they're called birds!"  
  
"No, they're like machines. Planes . . . thassit, Planes. And we have televisions: boxes with moving pictures!"  
  
"Seriously!?" he said, and took another swig.  
  
"Yeah, and hairdryers: a thing which blows hot air to dry your hair, and we have cars, like carts that don't need horses, radios, paperclips, calculators, phones-"  
  
"-by Eru-"  
  
"Yeah, but if there's one thing that's the greatestest, it's this nifty lil' thing called the intern-"  
  
She stopped suddenly and squinted at her nose. Then she threw up.  
  
*~*~* 


	5. A Performance to Remember

"Stupid, stupid!" a voice was muttering.  
  
Ginny woke up, forced in her guest bed. Funny, she didn't remember falling asleep. There was a wet towlette on her forehead, and a bunch of grapes in a crystal bowl by her bed. Her stomach felt like a jellyfish. It rumbled in a disturbing manner.  
  
"I never should have let him. What was I thinking? God, if mama knew he was going down to the vineyard everyday . . ." Vireth was muttering while fussing over her, wiping her face, feeling her forehead for her temperature, "Well, at least he brought you home good enough. He's not a bad boy Miss, just so . . . "  
  
Ginny turned over, groaning slightly. Her head felt like someone had shoved a tin pot over it and banged against it repeatedly with a large shovel before playing mambo no.5 with drumsticks. She could feel her ears reverberating gently.  
  
"What time is it?" she groaned.  
  
"It's five of the clock, you'll be going down to supper soon, and look at the state you're in! Tomorrow, I am personally taking you around. Barandor is in SO much trouble."  
  
"No thanks, I've seen most of it already." Ginny sat up, groaning. Her stomach felt hollow and empty. She didn't remember feeling so hungry. Vireth walked her over and sat her down at the vanity table. She took a wooden comb and started passing it through Ginny's thick black hair.  
  
"We have to get you nice and tidy." She said evenly, "You know, mister Bilbo was asking how you were today. I told him you was out. He said he looked forward to seeing you."  
  
"Really?" Ginny said, turning around. Vireth smiled.  
  
"Yea, and you know that metal skeleton you brought with you? The one with a wheel?"  
  
"It's called a *bike*, or a bicycle."  
  
"Well, it's still downstairs, if you'd like to see it. As is your case."  
  
"Oh, well, shall we go?"  
  
"Ah-ah-ah! You're not dressed yet."  
  
Ginny looked down. She was still wearing the same green dress, except the velvet bodice had been removed, probably while she was sleeping. The skirt was crusted with dirt.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Luckily, Vireth had another dress prepared. It was dove blue, and simple in appearance, but it fitted well and Ginny felt like a princess in make- believe.  
  
"Would you like some jewellery to go along with it?"  
  
"WOULD I?! What have you got?"  
  
"Well, I borrowed this circlet from lady Lindoriel, who's got lots, and these bracelets are from her daughter."  
  
"They're very pretty." Ginny said appreciatively and put them on.  
  
They were silver and very delicate. Ginny allowed Vireth to plait her hair over the silver wire to fasten it on. She realised that she was breathing very shortly, and her heart was thumping like hell.  
  
Oh Gods.  
  
She was going to dine with the Elves!  
  
*****  
  
This was truly haute cuisine.  
  
Roasted lamb with dozens of herbs cooked with something that looked like radishes. To think that the Elves were vegetarians! No, judging by this table, they were practically carnivorous. Amidst the tureens of soup and platter after platter of the finest meats, there was only one bowl of whole green salad leaves, almost untouched and looking very lonely.  
  
I suppose Elves don't get scurvy either, though Ginny, helping herself to some salad consisting mainly of flower petals. It tasted faintly of Turkish Delight, mixed with spinach.  
  
To her disappointment, she had not been regarded as a VIP and sat at the head with Glorfindel, Gandalf and Elrond and Arwen (Elladan and Elrohir were probably out); she was midway, quite near to the dwarves and hobbits.  
  
I suppose they seat everyone in height order, she thought dismally and ate some more chicken.  
  
Dinner was not quite the extravagance she had expected. There were many exotic dishes, but very little fish. Of course, she thought, they would have to get fish from Cirdan at the havens, or something. There were far more meat and potatoes, but she had hardly any appetite left. Tureens of soup and stew, and even a gravy boat in the shape of a Galleon. Somehow, Ye Olde Cookery was not quite to her taste. She made a mental resolution to teach the Elves the joy of pizza.  
  
From the Elven delicacies, she tried some stewed rabbit for the first time in her life. It tasted rather stringy, but pleasant  
  
Dessert came before Ginny had even finished her first course. It was very light sponge cake, with a sugary white sauce that turned out to be yoghurt. Little bowls of honey with teaspoons in them stood at every few feet on the table. Ginny saw some dwarves drip the golden honey on the bird shaped meringue that they had been given. She looked down and saw a small dove nesting on her plate. She broke off the tail and tasted it.  
  
"Elves have quite the sweet tooth, don't they?" she said to no one in particular.  
  
"Why, I suppose that they like sweet things. You haven't tried the fruit yet. Sweetest apples this side of the Brandywine!" said a cheery voice.  
  
Ginny turned to the speaker. He was short and grey-haired with small beady eyes, and was smiling merrily at her.  
  
"Who are you?" she said, her mouth stuffed with meringue.  
  
"Bilbo Baggins, esquire," He said cheerily, extending a hand, "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I see you are not the renowned Avaniel that I've been hearing about. I am quite grateful for that."  
  
"Quite." Said Ginny and let him continue. He seemed itching to talk.  
  
"I am rather interested in your eye glass things, quite a spectacle. The Old Took himself, poor-sighted in his age, had a little piece of glass that he fitted in front of his eye, it helped him see but for others just made them dizzy. I remember it was attached to a chain."  
  
"Oh yeah?" This guy talked with the vigour of a female gossip columnist.  
  
"I find it very hard to believe that *anyone* is fairer than the Evenstar, and I would have been quite offended if I'd been proven wrong." Arwen was not that far away, but the food fights between the hobbits and the dwarves (and several of the more mischievous elves) blocked Ginny's view of her.  
  
Ginny swallowed her food and opened her mouth:  
  
"Are you implying that you're happy that I'm ugly?" she cried, surprised at her own audacity. She was naturally taciturn amongst strangers, but these weren't *strangers*. She knew their life story. She knew their parent's names and what they did during the Ring War. She knew nearly everything about them, even perhaps down to their favourite food, which, for hobbits was easy to guess.  
  
Bilbo laughed heartily.  
  
"Oh, the cheek!" he laughed with mirth, "Now would the Avaniel say that, I wonder? I see we're going to get along my girl. What is your name? I don't think anyone's told me."  
  
"No, no one's asked me either. I'm trying to think of a good alias that I can fool you with." Ginny said, picking up an apple.  
  
Bilbo laughed again.  
  
"By Elbereth, are you a dear. I shall call you Belthil, Divine Radiance. You may not have it, but inside you shine."  
  
"Th-anks . . ." Ginny said. This guy sure was strange, but 'Belthil' had a nice ring to it. She could call herself Belly. At least it wasn't something horrible like Unadrithiel Sadrithiel Unithrawen or something like that. Besides, she didn't have the heart to contradict him. She bit into her shiny red apple.  
  
"Its not very sweet." She commented.  
  
"Well, not all of them are. Very sweet apples are rare, these are considered the finest."  
  
"In my world, ALL apples are sweet, or people won't buy them." Ginny said.  
  
"Then your world is a very strange world indeed." He replied nonchalantly, and then, "Perhaps you would like to try some wine? It's a special festival mead, fresh from the vineyard. I doubt you'll be picky about this."  
  
"Um . . . no thanks," Ginny mumbled. Her tummy rumbled disturbingly when she looked at the red wine.  
  
*  
  
Dinner finished far too soon in Ginny's opinion, and she had to be shooed away from her platter by the servants. The guests followed Elrond and Arwen as the huge doors at the end of the hall swung open.  
  
Bilbo whispered in her ear:  
  
"We're going into-"  
  
"Yes I know," she said, feeling nothing could impress her, "The Hall of fire."  
  
The hobbit looked on her with surprise mingled with respect, but said nothing.  
  
Inside the large common room, there was a toasty fire and several couches and chairs scattered around the room. Instrumental corners were prepared and stacked up for musicians. Ginny spied a large harp, and her fingers itched. And then it occurred to her that THIS was what accounted for evening entertainment here.  
  
This, and also maybe some kissing in the moonlight on a certain bridge for certain people.  
  
This is what happens, she tutted to herself, when poor souls are without a television.  
  
"IS Arwen going to sing her song?" she asked Bilbo, and sat on a couch next to him. At least he was taking some notice of her. Vireth had gone to help with the washing up, poor girl.  
  
"You mean the hymn she sang yesterday? Possibly. But I think its some other people's turn today."  
  
"Who's?"  
  
"Well, yours, for one. And I have my own piece too."  
  
"ME?"  
  
"Well, you are quite the obscure guest. People will want to learn about you."  
  
"Well, what should I do?"  
  
"Sing a song, play an instrument, tell a story." He said.  
  
Ginny thought. She could sing, she could sing pretty well, but just had trouble with high notes and volume, but as long as you were deaf, you were fine. And she could play the violin ok but not brilliantly, say, where was it? And she could always tell a story about her world back home. She was nervous to the point of fainting, but she knew this was once in a lifetime chance. And besides, she had nothing to lose. If you make a fool of yourself, her father always said, at least do it in front of people who won't hate you for it.  
  
"Wheres my violin?" she said. She had decided. If she was to make her fool of herself, it might as well be with the most perfect beings on Arda.  
  
"Vie-what?"  
  
Ginny gestured with her arms.  
  
"black case, about this long, a wooden instrument inside, has anyone seen it? It's very expensive, my uncle bought it for me."  
  
"Fear not, I shall have one of the servants bring it for you."  
  
**************************************************************************** ************************************  
  
Violin!  
  
Wonder of wonders!  
  
Those skilled can create the most harmonious melodies possible on it, enchanting and delighting all those within ear!  
  
But some can expertly use it to perform the most realistic sound effects, such as 'cat giving birth'.  
  
So far, Ginny was tending towards the latter. And this was just practising for Bilbo.  
  
"That's love-ly Belthil." He said in a rather strained voice, "Are you going to play that song for them?"  
  
"No," Ginny couldn't help smirking, "I have something special prepared." She said.  
  
***  
  
Everyone was watching her, some eager, some dismissive. She wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and took a big breath.  
  
She placed her bow on the A string and moved it across. The following sound had several people massaging their eardrums.  
  
"Um," she said. And tried again, all the while thinking: what the hell was I thinking?!?!?  
  
She played.  
  
And soon it was over. She sighed. A few people clapped politely. One elf wearing fancy green spoke up.  
  
"What was that song?"  
  
"Um, it's not really a song than a tune. It's really more of a *theme*. From a film, a um moving picture soundtrack, you may or may not be familiar with. It may even surprise you. It would have been very funny, at least for me, if you, um, actually recognised it. Um. It's called 'Concerning Hobbits'."  
  
The man looked gave the person beside him a Look. Ginny blushed terribly. Thankfully a dwarf saved the day.  
  
"An appropriate song, especially for our situation, but not skill. I can play the fiddle better than that." He said, twining his beard with a finger. Ginny glared.  
  
"It's not a fiddle, it's a violin."  
  
"What matter is pine or beech, to the eyes of a woodcutter?" he scoffed dismissively. A few elves in green looked offended. Ginny rightfully guessed; they were from Mirkwood. One stepped forward.  
  
"A great matter if you are starving in the woods and unable to hunt. You cannot eat pine, but beech mast is edible. In the Days of Old, the wood elves of Beleriand relied on it as a food source." Ginny smiled. She could feel the frustration rolling off the dwarf.  
  
"That matters not," he cried gruffly, "What matters is that this nameless girl cannot make proper music on her fiddle."  
  
"Violin you petty dwarf." Came a sounding mutter. Ginny suddenly found a large angry growling bearded face pressed close to hers. She whimpered.  
  
"Now, now Gloin," Bilbo said sharply, "She is but a girl, and you know you shouldn't terrorise children. She's only here until we decide what to do with her, Belthil, why don't you give your fidd-violin to Gloin and let him play? He's not a bad fellow."  
  
Ginny did so, reluctantly.  
  
Gloin was rather unfamiliar with the shoulder rest, which he threw on the floor, and complained loudly that the bow was all wrong, but after a few minutes practise, he played a small jig on it, better than Ginny had ever played in her life. Everyone clapped, including a scowling Mirkwood elf.  
  
Great! It was hardly her first day, and already upstaged, by a dwarf! Not a good thing for a Mary Sue, especially if they wanted to woo a certain Prince of Mirkwood. Gloin started playing another tune, an old Dwarven one, and Ginny suddenly thought of something.  
  
"Bilbo, Mr. Baggins, sir?"  
  
"Yes Belthil, my dear?"  
  
"What did you mean when you said 'until we decide what to do with me'."  
  
"Well, you're not a small matter m'dear-"  
  
"--I know *that*--"  
  
"And we need some time to decide what to do with you. It was Elrond's idea, of course . . ."  
  
"What are you going to do then? Are you going to send me back?" Bilbo noticed a hint of distress in her voice.  
  
"Not if you want to stay," he said carefully, and then evenly, "Do you want to stay?"  
  
Ginny squirmed uncomfortably.  
  
"Well, no, not forever, because I still have a life back home, be it miserable and nightmarishly to hell. But this is like a dream come true for me. I have loved Middle Earth ever since I read- ever since I learned about it. And it would be a dream for me to join the Fellowship and see Lothlorien because I love trees."  
  
Bilbo nearly choked.  
  
"This is not some picnic, Belthil, we are saving Middle Earth from its Doom, not some happy outing to some merry country far away!" Class. The hobbit knew something of sarcasm.  
  
"I know that, I know that!" Ginny cried, "And I can help you! I know everything about Middle Earth that I can remember! I can give you information; I could stop the unnecessary deaths of hundreds! I can teach you the technology of my own world and weaponry that you can use in your battles, well, maybe not modern technology, but I can aid you in every way!!!"  
  
The old hobbit was staring at this young girl in a new light.  
  
"Did I hear you correctly?" a voice said. It was . . .  
  
"Eep." Said Ginny and seized up. It was Legolas, prince of Mirkwood. Oh joy. How convenient. Simply marvellous.  
  
All that time he has been sitting just metres away from where she had been playing. Her heart was pounding and her hand went to her hair immediately, trying to smooth it. She felt her face getting hot and wished she'd thought to put on some make-up. Her mouth was dry and was he *ignoring* her?!  
  
"Ah, and you are the young lady who . . . appeared . . . at the council. I hope you are well." He gave a very small bow, "I am glad to know that you may be of aid to us in these desperate times. Perhaps Elrond has been wrong, you really are our saviour, just not in the way we think. And to think that we had the council without you! I will tell him of this offer immediately."  
  
Ginny was stiff in her seat with staring at his eyes, wishing the ground would swallow her up because for the life of her she couldn't think of what to say. If she were Mary Sue, she could thank him, or even keep cool and mysterious, and intrigue him further. Ginny knew that whatever she did, it would look anything but mysterious. Comical, even. Oh the irony, or lack of it.  
  
She opened her mouth to say something witty, but all that escaped from her lips was a high-pitched sound, rather like 'squee', a perfect C# sharp.  
  
The Elf looked puzzled at Bilbo, who shrugged. Then he walked away, after a swift 'good night'.  
  
Ginny wanted to pound herself, muttering profanities under her breath.  
  
"Are you alright, Belthil?" Bilbo asked good-naturedly.  
  
"My NAME is GINNY, shortass!!"  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ ____________________________  
  
It was a very ugly box.  
  
It was the sort of box that looked like it was a plastic prop from a vampire film. It was the sort of box that Dracula put his dental fangs in. It was black and had the right amount of dust encrusted on the lid. It probably housed many forms of living organisms, the main being woodworm. There were little Celtic designs carved in the wooden lid, but in all aspects, it was very, very, boring.  
  
In a word, it was the kind of thing that is housed for millennia in people's attics and generally forgotten about.  
  
Susie stared at it.  
  
"What is it?" she said.  
  
"Open it." Said LaRose, without looking at her granddaughter.  
  
Susie held her breath as her fingers prised along the rim of the lid, gently winching it open. Was there an eerie glow emanating from the box? It should have been compulsory. The velvet padding echoed of precious jewels or gold. This was truly treasure.  
  
She exhaled.  
  
It was a pearl.  
  
A black pearl.  
  
A very greasy, chipped, disfigured, crusty, grubby black pearl. It smelled slightly of rotten oysters.  
  
An impressive sight when you're a crustacean, but not when you're a Mary- Sue.  
  
Susie gave a gasp, but for all the wrong reasons.  
  
"What do I do with it?" she asked, eyes still transfixed at the awful sight in front of her.  
  
"I've no idea," said her grandmother casually, "Use it, I suppose. I'm sorry about the state of it. I never really bothered with cleaning the thing. It spent some time in Tiddles' tummy as well. It cost me a hoard for the vet to get it out. The dumb cat." She added.  
  
Susie nodded. She found she was having trouble processing this information.  
  
"So what do I do with it?"  
  
"I've told you, I've no idea. I've never had to use this. This," she said, indicating the mouldy mollusc excretion, "has been handed down the line for generations as a sort of Plan B, if Destiny fails to call up. If, like me, you had just gone through the wormhole, this never would have happened. You are, after all, the Chosen One. Now you have to make your own portal, which is very dangerous in a world devoid of mysticism like this. There is a risk of damaging the fabric of reality. You know what I mean, just think Star Trek."  
  
"Mmhm." Susie wasn't paying any attention, "It wasn't my fault I didn't go through. They did something wrong with the portal. It went bazooka."  
  
"Well, you'd think they'd try again if you didn't get there successfully. I always said myself, try and try again. Though notably, I've only ever had to try once."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. So how do I use it? Do I put it in a potion, or do some enchantments? Do I eat it?" she winced at the last idea.  
  
LaRose took a breath.  
  
"Look into your heart," she said with her best fairy grandmother voice, "It will tell you the true path to take." The air around her seemed to sparkle.  
  
If someone like Ginny had been there she may have said something like 'to hell with matters of the heart, I'm listening to one organ and that's my brain only. If God/Satan wanted us to listen to our heart, s/he would have planted a voice box interpreter inside our ribcage.'  
  
Unfortunately for her, Susie did not think the same way as her pessimist counterpart. She picked up the pearl between thumb and forefinger and threw it daintily in the air. Two pairs of eyes followed the trajectory of the once-shining pearl. They watched as it plummeted in slow motion to land on the wooden floor, without bouncing up again. There was a ripple, as that which comes before an outburst of energy,  
  
The results were swift, but nonetheless effective.  
  
***  
  
Susie opened her eyes dramatically to find herself in the remains of her grandmother's attic, swaying gently in the breeze. Her eardrums were ringing. The air smelled heavily of smoke and ash and she could hear LaRose saying something like "the insurance people are going to have a field day". She was vaguely aware that she had very little left of her eyebrows. But nevertheless, she still looked gorgeous.  
  
The pearl, had of course, disappeared.  
  
"Well," said LaRose, brushing black dust soot off her clothes, "it's a good thing there's a plan C." 


	6. Making Friends and Annoying Foes

Part 6  
  
Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, stared out over the twinkling valley of Rivendell. Life was like a dream here. He envied the inhabitants. Back home, life was a constant struggle, and always had been. He'd had to fight his way out of the forest, just to ride here.  
  
And now he was here. His task had been fulfilled, much to his shame. He shouldn't have spoke up about the mistake with Gollum, especially when Aragorn was just praising them for their resourcefulness. But now he didn't feel so guilty. He was correcting his mistake in a way now. He would become part of the Fellowship of the Ring. He would protect Frodo with his bow, and his life.  
  
There was too much on his mind now. At first he had thought it was simple. They go to Mordor, risk life and limb, but it was a struggle with a purpose. And suddenly this idea of a Lost Star appeared. A *girl*, who would save them all. He couldn't help thinking that it shouldn't be. It shouldn't be this complicated.  
  
And so he was rather relieved when the spell backfired. Elrond didn't seem to care much what happened to this one, this girl who wasn't a Star, though very lost; and Glorfindel had given up with the magic.  
  
He had to admit, this commoner girl was very nice, 'Nice' straining it a bit. She wasn't beautiful, especially with those glass circles that she wore, but . . . nice. Yeah, sure, because of her, Boromir had now refused to come out of his chambers, and Elrond's blood pressure had rocketed, but no one really cared. No one cared about her because she wasn't Avaniel, but they didn't care about *her* either.  
  
But they weren't the ones who had seen her face.  
  
She was beautiful, no doubt about it. With her long, golden hair, rivalling Lady Galadriel's, fair skin and brilliant blue eyes that shone like stars, Legolas was no way in doubt.  
  
He was in love.  
  
Everything he looked at brought back the vision of her through the vortex. The stars in the night sky, the pale luminescence of the moon? They were nothing compared to her. He HAD though the Evenstar was the fairest, but now . . .  
  
Looking back to the bright lights of the Hall, he saw Arwen walking out to the west garden. He had a faint suspicion she was there to meet someone.  
  
The sight of Bilbo and that girl arguing caught his attention. He watched as the old hobbit walked out, hobbling slightly, muttering to himself and leaning on his stick, passing where Legolas currently stood but not noticing him due to an obstructing potted fern. The black haired girl followed.  
  
"I didn't mean it, honest!" he heard her cry.  
  
"Is something wrong?" he said, stepping in front of her. And then she saw him and it was like she was possessed. Her face went red and she seemed to shrink.  
  
"Eep." She said, and ran.  
  
A few yards from the doorway she stopped again and turned around. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes, she walked firmly back to the where she'd just been standing.  
  
"Are you alright?" Legolas said gently, as good prince Charmings are wont to do. She inhaled again deeply.  
  
"Yes." She said calmly and slowly, looking as if she had just destroyed the One Ring single-handedly, "and how are you, your highness?"  
  
Legolas was slightly taken aback.  
  
"I am well," he said, "But there is much that troubles me this fair eve, ever since your arrival."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear about that." She said, her heart pounding like a potato in her chest.  
  
He turned away to face the starry night.  
  
"That girl . . . Avaniel, you knew her, did you not?" he said.  
  
The girl stiffened.  
  
"She's called (I think her name is because she has lots) Susie, or Sue. I think it's short for Susan or Susannah. Her real name's Maria."  
  
She watched his lips trace the syllables.  
  
"Her name is music to my ears." He whispered dramatically. Ginny groaned. She cleared her throat.  
  
"Yes, well, in real life, she's something of a bitch. Always whorin' around with the boys, and the teachers as well. Oh yes, it was little miss Susie, oh-so-perfect. Everyone wanted *her* to do the lead role in Romeo 'n' Juliet, not nerdy Virginia who knew all her lines in advance. And trust her to be destined to go to Middle Earth! Oh-so-special, I didn't even KNOW that Arda really even existed, and there she is, with a free ticket already when I'M the one who knows every damn thing about the whole damn ring."  
  
She couldn't stop it. Words came in a flood.  
  
"Well here's to you miss Mary Sue, I've read about your kind, the warrior princesses, the pre-raphaelite maidens, the Buffy heroines, and I know just how to deal with you. You don't know war, *I* don't know war, but I do know my history. And I'm not going to stand back when Boromir dies and all those people who died trying to sail from Alqualonde, and Galadriel tries her mind control and those prophecies, and you don't understand what she's going on about and you think you're going to die but you're not, you're just yearning for the sea. And Halbarad who dies just because he's insignificant and tried to deliver a banner on time, a lesson to all postmasters."  
  
She took a breath.  
  
"Do you really hate her that much?" said Legolas patiently.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"She's a Mary Sue, and like many Tolkienists before me, I have entered the brief and terrestrial realm that is fan fiction. I know what they are. They are BAD, and I don't know if I'm more shocked that Middle Earth exists or that flesh and blood Mary Sues exist. Mary Sues are a plague, a virus; no one is insusceptible to her charms!! Especially you!"  
  
She paused and sighed. Together they walked back to the hall of Fire.  
  
"She's a Mary Sue named Mary Su'e. Either her mother's crazy, or has a very twisted sense of humour. She was destined to come here from the start. And now I'm here."  
  
"I'm sorry." Legolas said sympathetically, patting her on the shoulder. She shook him away, waving her hands frantically.  
  
"This is it! This is the kind of crap that I'm always complaining about! I hate Mary Sues and Lego-mances, and now I'm in one, I'm really, really IN ONE!!! This is just the kind of sad storyline that some obsessive fan-girl would write in her spare time and post on some stupid fansite that doesn't care what kind of crap it has as long as people read it. This is just the crap that stupid sites like -oh, I don't know- fanfiction dot net, is made of!!!"  
  
She panted slightly after that.  
  
"Have you finished?" a timid voice said.  
  
"Yes. Yes, I think so."  
  
There was pause, filled with the sound of running water and nightingale song. Rivendell has sound effects for all occasions. They aim to please.  
  
"So . . . what think you of Imladris?" He said finally, breaking the silence.  
  
"Hmm. Its. Nice. Yes. Very nice. Um . . . I had my first hangover today."  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
"Yup, it's not as cracked up as it's meant to be. I'm better now though" She put on a bright smile. The result was another silence. Then she remembered something, taking the piece of paper out of her sleeve (the dress had no pockets) and tapped him on his shoulder.  
  
"Um, Legolas? Sorry for asking, but who was your mother? Um. It's just that she's never mentioned in any of the boo- texts that I've read. What was her story? It's just, you know, a bit of a mystery to us all. I know many people who are very interested in you."  
  
"Why . . ." he started, but stopped. He looked as if he was deciding whether to speak or not, brow creased. He sighed, sitting down on a nearby padded couch.  
  
"There is no mystery to it." He said calmly, "The whole of Greenwood knew. She was with child before the marriage was even agreed. Then she died after giving birth to me. There is always gossip that she was slain by the Necromancer, but the truth is nothing as glamorous. She was just a commoner like you. My father loved her very much. There. Your mystery is no longer."  
  
"I'm sorry." Came the quiet reply, "It's just, well, you know, I thought Elves are immortal. They can't be killed. And I thought you could control pregnancy."  
  
"In truth, we are as rash and as reckless as you mortals when it comes to emotions. Bastard children are frowned upon, but cannot be prevented; they grow up the same as everybody else. It was rather the fact that my father was the ruler of a kingdom that caused complications. And my mother passed away as much as Miriel Serinde, whose soul left her body when she lay down to sleep, and this was all because she gave birth to Feanor. The same happened with mother."  
  
"So she was comatose." Reality had some harsh bites. To think that the beloved-by-all hunky hottie totally kewl Elf was actually a bastard motherless child was rather dizzying.  
  
"Tell me," Ginny said steadily, "What was her name?"  
  
"I don't know." His face was a mask of internal agony, "My father's councilmen forbade her name to be written down in the royal genealogies, and my father was so distraught when her name was spoken that eventually, by the time I could talk, the subject of her was like some taboo. Her name was never spoken and never written down. No record of her is kept. All the evidence there is of my mother is when people refer to her as the Late Lady or the Prince's Mother."  
  
"Wow. No wonder Thranduil is so crabby with uninvited guests." A smile flickered on Legolas' face, but returned to being impassive.  
  
"Tell you what, I have a song that will either cheer you up or bore you silly. It goes a little like this. A lot of Mary Sues use this to seduce, but I have little faith in that. Ahem:" she took a breath, putting the offending paper away.  
  
She was throwing away what remained of her dignity now, but she felt so sorry for bringing back those painful memories. She shouldn't do that, but at least the mystery was solved. Sort of. This was Rivendell, people were supposed to be all tra la lally here down the valley, and other things that rhymed with ally. She had nothing to lose.  
  
"# May it beee and evening staaar, that shiiines, down on yooou . . .#" she sang, or wailed, (it's your choice), to the night sky.  
  
And you can tell where that led.  
  
"Where once was liiight, now darkness faaalls. Where once was looove, love is no mooore . . ."  
  
Ginny would have honestly done better by playing him a Linkin Park CD.  
  
_____________________________________________________~*~____________________ _____________  
  
"Friends, guests, allies and councilmen." Elrond proclaimed to the seated audience. It was the next day. My, did time fly. Ginny suspected that his speeches were all rehearsed before a mirror.  
  
She yawned. She had not slept well at all, being unused to the scratchy linen sheets and the lumpy padded mattresses. Rivendell had no toothbrushes, and she'd had to use a finger to clean her teeth; but Vireth had given her some kind of mouthwash to use, which she claimed worked just as well. Then she told her it was made out of lettuce.  
  
She had woken up that morning groggy eyed, hungry and light-headed. And then she saw Arwen sitting at the foot of her bed. The result was not good. Wow, was she beautiful. In the presence of *that*, anyone can feel unworthy. In many ways, Liv Tyler and the real Arwen were not very different. If you just glanced at once of them without noticing, you could have mistaken them for each other, except for the fact one was glowing like uranium.  
  
"Do you have to shine like that? I'm recovering from a hangover." She'd said. The lady had looked very offended. She had waist length black hair, and startlingly bright eyes.  
  
"I apologise, but most people like it. They say my skin is very radiant." Even as she spoke, the light level in the room seemed to dull slightly, making her look more normal. Ginny got up, and put on the loose dress she had worn the day before, feeling rather self conscious about dressing before the most beautiful thing in Middle Earth. She wasn't super, super pretty or anything, Ginny could think of many film stars who could be prettier, but she wasn't about to doubt myths.  
  
"Sorry about this," she'd said, "I'm a late waker. Um, Hi, hello, Elen Sila Lummen Omen-whatever. I take it you're Arwen."  
  
"Yes, I am. I hope you have enjoyed your stay so far. Father has requested that I look after you for the day. I have prepared several activities for us to do."  
  
"Wow, that's, er, very nice of you. I . . . am very thankful, but I was hoping that I get onto some more important matters, like getting back home. I really don't think I want to stay here forever. The toilet facilities are awful." She found a hairbrush under the four-poster bed and started brushing her hair.  
  
"But Lord Mithrandir has said he will aid you himself! Surely you do not doubt his word. No, today, I will take you out. Perhaps I could teach you some needlework, you can help me make my banner."  
  
Ginny paused.  
  
"For Aragorn?"  
  
"For who else? He needs me."  
  
Ginny had said nothing. When reading the books, she had many views on this male dominant society, and often scoffed at Arwen's docility and the way she stayed at home with her feet up, making a banner whose courier would later die . . . but she couldn't say that to her now. This wasn't a story anymore, no matter how much she knew it was. This is was the real thing. Or was it?  
  
"What's for breakfast?" she had said, to which Arwen remarked, "You are just like a halfling."  
  
During breakfast, which had been carted to her room, Arwen leaked out that there was a meeting in the court to day and that she was to keep Ginny out of trouble and out of their way. Ginny had become very offended at this and learned eventually that women were not allowed in formal meetings. Even Arwen was kept out.  
  
"And Susie thinks she can just waltz in and smart mouth everyone in sight!" This patriarchal society needed a few adjustments. Ginny wasn't a Mary Sue, but she was going to get her way. All she needed was a plan . . .  
  
*  
  
And two and half hours later, and many people with sore eardrums, she'd now scored herself a seat at the council. She used her bicycle, which was now missing a wheel, but that didn't matter. So Mary Sue methods did work! But to her disappointment, no one listened to her. They talked about her like she wasn't there, and interrupted her when she started anything.  
  
And then Elrond called her forward, and asked "What is your name, girl?"  
  
. . . And she stared up into his eyes, and saw that they were deeper and older than anything she had ever seen before. The surprising handsomeness and nobility of his features rendered her speechless. In character, Hugo Weaving could not be more accurate, but in looks, he was far from the real thing. Her jaw dropped.  
  
She had made herself a name out of Elven words summoned out of the groggy depths of her mind, but now, as she stared, mesmerised at his Elven radiance, her memory blanked completely.  
  
"Ginnn-nuh." Somehow, the other syllable had gone a-wandering and was currently stranded in her throat.  
  
"Yes? Is that all?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"'es." She murmured.  
  
"Oh, I expected you to have a more gracious name, but I do not think that is essential for a commoner."  
  
Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Instead, she could only watch in morbid horror as he patted her gently on the head and told her to sit back down. And to her even greater shock, she did. He carried on talking regardless.  
  
Damn those elves, she thought, mind control is SO wrong!  
  
"To all gathered here, you know why you are here." Elrond declared, "We are here to discuss and eventually produce a solution for this girl, Gin, as to where she should stay for the duration of this dark period until she can return home. As most of you now know, she came through the portal that we created with the magic from the book and from my ri- my devices. Unfortunately, she was not the one we were looking for and the one we were trying to bring here. That girl will never come here now. We have decided to reject her use and proceed with the original plan. However, the matter remains that we have an inhabitant from another world residing with us. Glorfindel has read through the book, and is regretful to say that the same portal cannot take her back the other way, and the book gives no other method of transport. He is currently experimenting with the magics." In the crowd, Glorfindel coughed, ever so quietly. "So until we find that solution, Gin will have to stay here. Now I say that she remains in Rivendell, where my ri- where *I* can keep her safe. She can make herself useful, and consequently I am in need of a new chambermaid. Do I hear approval?"  
  
There was some clapping. Ginny was horrified. Then Bilbo spoke up.  
  
"Now, lord Elrond, you cannot employ a total stranger, especially in such a degree. I say that she remain a guest, and be treated with the highest courtesy."  
  
"And she has useful information as well," Legolas spoke up, and Ginny felt a warm glow inside.  
  
"Very well, what information do you have Gin?"  
  
All eyes fixed on her. She stiffened and her hands started to sweat.  
  
"Ah. Er. Well, um . . . I know that Sauron is rebuilding Barad dur and . . ." Someone coughed. She blushed. And then a thought struck her. Quotes. "He is gathering all armies to him. We unite or we fall." She quoted, thankful to Peter Jackson that the films were so easy to swallow. It had been a long time since she read the books.  
  
"I believe we already had some idea of that. Is that all?"  
  
"NO! Er, um, Saruman, erm, well he's evil and he's also breeding orcs and goblins to make a new kind of orc that can walk in the daylight and doesn't fear the sun. Oh, and he's going to try and take Rohan. He's sent Grima son of Galdor, no, Galmod who's poisoning King Theoden's mind and now doesn't have any control over the matters of his kingdom. And he's also cutting down trees. Lots of trees."  
  
Elrond looked grim.  
  
"There is a lot of information you have there, but what proof do you have of this?"  
  
Ginny was stuck.  
  
"I know this. I'm certain of it."  
  
There was still murmuring around the court.  
  
"And how is this supposed to aid our cause?" he raised an eyebrow sceptically.  
  
"But it's true! And you know, for all your wiseness, you really are very stupid. We have 5 istari, ok 4, plus the two blue ones who went wandering, that's four wise maiar; three bearers of Rings of Power, Narya, Nenya, Vilya; why can't we defeat just one Maia, if a very evil one?"  
  
The murmuring increased in volume.  
  
"What do you know of the Rings of Power?" cried Gandalf sternly, standing up. Ginny shrank back momentarily, but gathered her courage.  
  
"Quite a lot actually!" she stood up. She had held it in for too long. All those discussions on Tolkien fan sites came back to her. There was an easier way. Frodo didn't need to suffer, Gandalf didn't need to die, Boromir didn't need to die. Neither did all those other people.  
  
Joining the Fellowship was the nice, easy, Mary Sue way. Ginny's way, was planning on *controlling* the Fellowship.  
  
"You lot!" she yelled to the crowd, "Get off your sorry asses and do something! Let's make an army! We gather the forces of Rivendell and Lothlorien, I mean if you can have guards and wardens then you have soldiers. Then we have the Elves of Mirkwood, though they will be a bit preoccupied. And why has no one thought of a sea attack? If Cirdan can send ships, he could be an essential mode of transport for troops, and the ships could sail up the Anduin and launch an attack from the water, and better if there's fog. And then we have the forces of Rohan, the cavalry, what with Edoras and the Helmingas and the Eorlingas and the people of the Westfold! Gondor can send the infantry and their knights in shining armour; but I remember you need light infantry to combat the easterling war elephants. And not forgetting all the other kingdoms, Dol Amroth, the Dunedain, the Dwarves of the lonely mountain, Esgaroth, even the Shire and Bree can help!  
  
"You have heard of the Onodrim, the ents right? Well they hate Saruman, and we can use that to our advantage, we can convince us to join our fight! And in The Hobbit there's a guy called Beorn, this giant can help us! And why has no one thought of gathering allies from the Easterlings or the Haradrim? Surely not all of them are bound to Sauron? If we see through our differences, we can fight the greatest evil together. If we do this, surely we can combat just one sorry little Maia, ok, two, plus Saruman who's in mortal form and easy to kill. But you forget! We have a Maia of equal strength to him right here! And Radagast! And Pallando and the other one! And we still have the bearers of the Elven rings, who says we can't use them against Sauron? I suppose we could call upon the Valar, but they're too stuck up to get off their sorry little asses except at the last minute.  
  
"So what I'm saying is, we do this and launch an attach on Barad dur from all sides. Sauron will be so pre occupied, that he wouldn't notice a certain Lord of the Eagles carrying a small hobbit to Orodruin. Frodo drops the ring in, and there's no time for him to get tempted, he leaps back onto Gwaihir and to safety. Sauron is vanquished, leaving only legions of orcs for us to wipe out with our united armies."  
  
The words came from her in a flood. She was saying the first things that came into her head and they were actually making *sense*. What was she saying? What had she done? She could change the whole course of history with those words, and then she wouldn't know what happens next and things might turn out *worse*.  
  
There was a deadly silence. And then talk erupted. People started shouting and contradicting each other. Even Elrond couldn't quieten them down. Ginny felt reasonably pleased with herself.  
  
Gandalf advanced on her, eyes demanding. Elrond came forward as well.  
  
"I do not know the limits of your knowledge, but let me tell you, it is a dangerous thing indeed. Careless talk costs lives. I do not know where you got your silly little ideas, but it would be best if you kept them suitably to yourself." His voice was low beyond hearing and raspy. She nodded nervously. When did they get all World War Two paranoid?  
  
In a louder voice he said:  
  
"It has occurred to me that you know too much for your own good. Sauron has many spies, birds and beasts, if he learns of you, who knows of what use you may be to him?"  
  
"Why are you all talking like this?" Ginny cried suddenly, "I've told you, you're going to win!" Then the hobbit she recognised as Frodo spoke:  
  
"In these dark times, we need more that words to convince us. A heavy burden lies on me and there is no way to relieve it." Sam patted his hand from beside him.  
  
"Oh shut UP Frodo!" she exploded suddenly. These people were really getting on her nerves. She tried reason. "If an eagle can carry a full grown wizard from a stone tower, he can carry a half-sized hobbit to a volcano." She felt flustered. Why were they so *stupid*? She rubbed the hair away from her face.  
  
Could it be that it really WAS a story and they couldn't act any other way? That they were bound to the storyline? Could it be that there was no other way for the plot to go? It all seemed to make sense, yet it was so wrong.  
  
Elrond had started to confer with the council.  
  
"It is obvious now that she is a liability. What else do you know, girl?"  
  
"Well, not much. Erm, the history of Arda and all that. I know that your father is currently a star and your mother is a bird. Your brother was the first king of Numenor. I also know what route the Fellowship is going to take, so I say now, don't bother with Caradhras, and beware the Balrog in Moria. Denethor is going to kill himself, and Boromir is going to die at Rauros. Gandalf gets resurrected. Aragorn becomes king of Gondor and he and Arwen and lots of lovely fat little babies. Happy?"  
  
Something resembling a squeak emitted from Boromir of Gondor. Ginny mentally cursed herself. She shouldn't have told him that. People who learn the exact manner and time of their death are not happy, mentally fit people. He cleared his throat and sat in a way that plainly said, 'nothing has happened; I have heard nothing because metaphorical fingers were in my ears'.  
  
Aragorn, on the other hand, was looking . . . there was no other word for it:  
  
Smug.  
  
"If Sauron should capture you," Elrond started, his voice harsh "and begot from you information, then he would learn about all that you know of us. You know too much. If you revealed it to anyone, it is *we*who would suffer. Long has he searched for the Elven rings, and if he knows that a mere girl like you knows the exact location of that and much more, who knows what force . . ." he broke off and stared into space.  
  
"Your very existence here puts Rivendell in danger." He said again, "Perhaps he has already learned of you. Wherever you go, he will send spies. He will try and bend you to his will and he will succeed. Rivendell, Lothlorien, Mithlond, if he learns of you, even these realms cannot protect you. But if you were to be on the move . . ."  
  
"Then he would find it impossible to capture her!" Glorfindel finished, standing up finally.  
  
There was a gloomy silence for a moment, and then Gimli the dwarf spoke up.  
  
"She could always join the Fellowship."  
  
And destiny came in a great rolling heaping snowball of doom, buckling Ginny off her chair. It was inevitable. Maybe this really was some story that someone wrote and she was just a made up character, trapped and helpless against the tide of the original storyline.  
  
There was murmuring, people were agreeing, they were actually agreeing. She probably shouldn't have insulted so many of them. Now they wanted her out of their haven. And then it struck her, making her jaw drop. *Rivendell hated her*. They wanted to get rid of her. They actually wanted to get *rid* of her.  
  
But why? Was she really that annoying?  
  
Yes! Her annoying side answered.  
  
Her head was pounding and she felt sleepy. She was joining the Fellowship.  
  
Oh joy. Her dream had come true. And now it was quickly turning into a nightmare. 


	7. Hi Ho Hi Ho to Save the World We Go!

Part 7  
  
"I WANT a sword!" Ginny cried, almost in tears.  
  
"Nonsense," the haughty elf replied, "What would you do with it?"  
  
"To defend myself against orcs, goblins, wargs, uruk hai and balrogs of course! What do you think?!" She had been begging for the last fifteen minutes, but Erestor was not an Elf to bargain with. She continued following him pleadingly as he strode around the small armoury, fingering each of the swords and bows that hung ornamentally on the stone walls and occasionally testing them.  
  
"Why would you want to do that? You cannot use it, and you forget: you are journeying with the Fellowship of the Ring! I suffice to say that you are in very capable hands. And besides, you are but a girl, and girls are not strong enough to use swords."  
  
"But, but, but - you can't, I mean, I need . . . its so unfair! Arwen has a sword!" she cried in desperation. Erestor turned around slowly.  
  
"Did Lady Arwen tell you she had a sword? Perhaps this morning?"  
  
"No, but I mean, I know she has one. It's a lady's sword. How else could she defend Frodo at the Ford? - Oh wait . . . damn. " She had been watching the films too much.  
  
"I do not know what you are talking about." He continued inspecting the weaponry, and picked up a shield to test its weight, "I do not know where you got your ideas from. What kind of father would Lord Elrond be, if he let his one and only daughter and our fair Evenstar run amok with swords? I expect you DO know what happened to her mother?"  
  
"Celebrian? I'd have thought that Galadriel taught her how to fight. She was pretty good herself, what with the Kinslaying and-"  
  
"It was that swordsmanship that made the orcs toy with her. If orc filth like one thing more than easy prey, it is easy prey with bite." He said sharply. He paused and then said quietly, "Do not tell Lord Elrond I said that."  
  
"Fine, but I don't see what that has to do with why I can't have a sword!"  
  
"Why do you even need one? You cannot wield it. I do not think Aragorn or Gandalf would let you come to harm, if trouble should arise. And I think the others feel just the same."  
  
"But, I'm in the Fellowship! I need a sword! I bet one of them could teach me how to use one. Maybe Legolas . . ." Erestor sighed and turned around again.  
  
"Firstly, you are NOT part of the Fellowship of the Ring. The Nine Fellowship have been chosen to counter the Nazghul. They've had the goodwill in them to take you as a fellow traveller. They will protect you, and you will not stray from them. You will be deposited to a safe place somewhere along the journey and then they can continue burdenless on their quest to Mordor. I do not think they have the time or the strength or the patience to teach someone like *you*. Now go away and leave me alone. I have a task to do. I must test these weapons to see if they are safe for use."  
  
Ginny said nothing and continued to stand in the doorway. Her sulk said everything that needed to be said. Erestor sighed and shook his head.  
  
"If I give you a long knife, will you go away?" he said, worn out, taking one from behind him without glancing at it and handing it to her. The girl brightened immediately.  
  
"Now go away before I regret my decision." Ginny went out of the room. Then she stopped and turned around to him.  
  
"Thank you. I really mean it."  
  
"Yes, yes, Fine." Erestor shut the door with a sigh, closing his eyes. The Elf took some breaths, rubbing his temples and smoothing his black hair back before continuing with his task.  
  
Then he heard a soft rap at the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and opened it again.  
  
"Can I have a crossbow as well?" said Ginny, standing in the doorway, eyes shining as she grasped her newly acquired weapon.  
  
"Of course not! That is an Easterling weapon, and we do not use weapons of the enemy."  
  
"Oh. Well, can I have a longbow then?"  
  
Erestor sighed again.  
  
"Here." He said. Ginny's eyes widened.  
  
"Wow! Thank you so much! This is so cool!" She said, and smiled, "I just want to tell you how much I appreciate this. It means a lot to me you know? I mean, I suppose I have been a bit of a pain in the-"  
  
-SLAM-  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
"So how is your grandmother?"  
  
"Oh she's alright." Susie poured the washing up liquid into the running water and picked up the dishcloth.  
  
There was silence in the Smith household. Beruthia Illiadie Titania Caschiara Herenna Smith (most people called her Ruth, unless they wanted to be pulverised) sipped her coffee quietly, as she listened to her daughter's words. The day had finally come. Susie would go and collect her 'destiny'. She gave a mental snort. And then scolded herself. She should support her daughter, Mary Sue or no. She *should*.  
  
"Your school's on the local news you know. They're calling it a freak weather phenomenon. Apparently, there are still people missing."  
  
"Really."  
  
"So what have you been up to at your grandmothers? And why is your hair singed?"  
  
"We haven't been doing anything. Nothing is going on. My head is fine. Grandmamma gave me a bandage." Ruth put her mug down hard on the dining table.  
  
"You don't have to pretend that I don't know what you get up to. I was in your place once you know. I expect LaRose told you about it."  
  
Susie turned to her mother.  
  
"Why didn't you go when you were in my place? You know what I'm talking about. Why didn't you go to Middle Earth?" Ruth sipped her coffee before answering.  
  
"I guess you could say that I just wasn't the fairytale type."  
  
"No, really, why didn't you go? It should have been hereditary. Everyone goes to Arda sooner or later. Why did you turn it down?" She dried her hands and sat down on the table.  
  
"I suppose it was because I never liked the books. Have you read them yet? The contents are quite depressing you know. All this good versus evil, and it's so unfair. I never touched them again. They're still in my book closet."  
  
"Really? I was looking for them . . . after I found out about the whole . . . thing."  
  
"So are you stuck here now?" said Ruth.  
  
Oh, how she wished it were true. It was wrong, all this 'world-tripping', going on adventures, saving the world. She knew it wasn't for her when she first read the books. And now her darling mother had got her own daughter involved. It was wrong, destiny or not. She wished she could tell her daughter her fears for her, but she knew Susie wouldn't listen. Tom wouldn't understand either. Her husband concerned himself with such trivial matters; it was always money, and double-glazing. He had been spending less and less time at home with her now, and never even looked at their daughter nowadays, ever since he found out about the whole Mary Sue thing.  
  
She couldn't help it. It was, after all, hereditary.  
  
"No," said Susie, "there's still the problem of a girl in my class who got sucked there in my place by mistake." Ruth stood up.  
  
"And she's still there?! Her parents will be worried sick!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Grandmother says she's going to try and get me to my destination and also switch our places at the same time, so she gets returned home and I get to Middle Earth. Then everyone's happy."  
  
"You're still going." Said Ruth, and her voice was cold and steely. What she wanted to say was 'I love you so much, don't leave me', but how? How could she say that to this girl who claimed to be her daughter yet was going to leave her to go and save another world without even thinking about *her*? She had spoiled her too much. The child was becoming a brat. It was her mother's fault too.  
  
There was a sharp rap at the back door, and Grandmother LaRose swooped into the kitchen. Ruth clicked her tongue and busied herself with the coffee maker. Just because she owned a mansion herself didn't mean she owned everyone else's homes as well, but the old bat never seemed to realise.  
  
"Hello my dear!" Said LaRose, addressing the seated Susie. Her mouth stiffened when she saw her daughter by the counter, "Beruthia." She nodded coldly.  
  
"RUTH, mother. And why are you here? Susie is not going anywhere. I'm going to make that clear. You are not making her do anything against her will, do you understand. She is MY daughter."  
  
"Calm down Beruthia," said LaRose stiffly, her nose high, "And I'm not. She chose to do this of her own free will. She is going to claim her Destiny like me, as she should, and soon. Who knows what that other girl is doing over there? She is going to be a legacy . . . unlike some."  
  
The 37-year-old Ruth sagged.  
  
"Why do you hate me mother? Is it because I didn't go?" she said, defeated. LaRose ignored it.  
  
"Now Susie, remember what I said about Plan C?" she sat down beside her granddaughter.  
  
"Do you have it?"  
  
"No, we don't need it! What I have here is much better. It guarantees everything. Every damn thing."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Out of the many pockets of her clothing, LaRose drew out a small crystal phial. The liquid contents were a violent purple, and shimmered like stars.  
  
"There is a flower that grows only the light of the moon. It will only grow in the, er, dung, of the silver hind. It only blooms under the glare of the full moon, and they will only show petals once every . . . every-"  
  
"-Hundred years mother-"  
  
" . . . hundred years. Yes. Very rare, and very precious I can tell you. This is powerfully magical. At the next full moon, the person who drinks this will have control of Reality, complete control, for merely a fraction of a second. Every wish you make during that fraction of a second will be granted, every statement come true. You will drink this, and you will concentrate on what you want, which is?"  
  
"To Extend the Mortal Hand Past the Mundane, into the Realm of Illusions and Seek Thy True Destiny. I concentrate on trying to reach Middle Earth." Susie recited, as Ruth coughed dejectedly in the corner of the tiny kitchen, "But Grandmamma, the next full moon's only a few days away!"  
  
"Good." Said LaRose confidently, "I think you know what to do now. Full moon, midnight, you know the score."  
  
She stood up.  
  
"The time has come, Maria Susan. You shall be held back no more. Fare well and good luck."  
  
She turned to leave.  
  
"Goodbye . . . Ruth." She said, without glancing at the utterly defeated woman behind her.  
  
After the door shut, Ruth burst into tears.  
  
"Hush, mum, I'm sorry, I have to do this . . ." Susie put her hand on her mothers shaking shoulders.  
  
Ruth merely sobbed more.  
  
****************************************************************  
  
Vireth was helping her to pack. Ginny had emptied her schoolbag and her coat. The contents were depressing, and made her miss home. For the past two days, she had tried not to think about home, and just treat this like an adventure in a children's storybook kind of thing.  
  
Something would come up. Sooner or later, something would happen and she would be returned home like nothing had ever happened. Something . . .  
  
She had £1.37 in her purse, and also a pack of tissues. There was her pencil case, and her schoolbooks. She wouldn't be needing those. Or the calculator. She showed the machine to Vireth, and let her play with it like a child while she tried to think what she was going to do.  
  
And she had also spotted the problem of her period.  
  
Rummaging around the pockets of her schoolbag came up with three sanitary pads and three tampons, and also a few panty liners. She was prepared for school, but those supplies wouldn't last her barely a day in the wild. She'd have to ask Vireth about the whole thing.  
  
Vireth's answer turned out to be rags. Spare clean rags, rolled into a sort of bulging, absorbent cushion, which you slipped into your underwear. Uncomfortable and inconvenient, but it'd have to do. She'd have to take a supply, and change and wash whenever she could.  
  
She sighed.  
  
Why, why was she here? Why was she doing this? This wasn't her world, be it real or not. So what if you want to see Lothlorien, they always said that Tolkien based it on the New Forest anyway. She shouldn't be doing this. Maybe Susie was, but she wasn't here and never will be.  
  
Why join the fellowship anyway? She knew everything that was going to happen. And Elvish wasn't that hard anyway.  
  
Rivendell had a toxic effect on the memory. It seemed like days had passed, as if she had been here all along. She instinctively checked her ears for any sign of a tip. She exhaled. They were round, and rather dirty.  
  
She wondered whether she should take the violin and the bicycle with only one wheel. She couldn't leave them here; she might never get them back. They could be all that were left of her own home, her own world. God, she missed it: the quilted toilet paper, herbal essences shampoo, fluffy slippers, cornflakes, even algebra. God, what she would do for some chocolate.  
  
She stuffed her schoolbag with everything she would need on the trip. It was important to pack light, and she decided to wear her black and white school uniform anyway, along with extra coats and if she allowed it, a cloak.  
  
This was not her fight, but Gods know, it would be.  
  
******************  
  
Ginny woke. Sun from her skylight blinded her. Her eyes opened.  
  
"Ginny!" It was her mother's voice, "Hurry up, you're late for school! Michael's already gone!" It took her a while to remember that Michael was her brother.  
  
"OK, I'm up." She croaked, and got out of her oh-so-warm-and-comfortable bed. The wallpaper was blue, and posterless.  
  
She walked groggily in the corridor. At the end of the hallway where the bathroom should be, was a grassy meadow. Dragons were flying happily around it.  
  
"Green." She said, and went downstairs.  
  
Orlando Bloom was making breakfast.  
  
"You like cheese, don't you?" he said. Beside him, Cate Blanchett poured herself a glass of orange flavoured milk.  
  
"You'll never guess where I've been." Ginny said, sitting down to a breakfast of escargot. She pushed the plate away.  
  
"The hairdryer factory? You must remember your lines for the play. You're playing the King of the Fairies."  
  
"I thought they were Elves."  
  
"Lle anta yulna en alu?" he asked. Ginny shook her head and blinked hard.  
  
"Uh. What?"  
  
"Do you want a drink of water?"  
  
"Um. It's ok, thank you."  
  
Cate Blanchett stood up.  
  
"Come,"  
  
And then they were in the garden. She stood, her hair long and golden and flowing, by a stone birdbath.  
  
"Will you wake up and look?" she said.  
  
"What will I see?" said Ginny slowly.  
  
"The mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are, and pages from the Argos catalogue."  
  
"Now I can shop online!" Ginny cried to the trees. There was a flutter of wings as black silhouettes of birds flew out.  
  
. . . And then she woke up again, to the surroundings of a Rivendell guest bedroom. Vireth was stuffing some dry bread into a paper pack in her bag, and using Ginny's newly acquired sword to cut it into chunks.  
  
Ginny cried, and she didn't know why.  
  
***  
  
"Farewell, and good luck." Said Elrond to the assembled Fellowship', who stood proud and stern. Ginny lagged in a corner. So here she was, joining the Fellowship. Who'd have thought it? She echoed mentally. There was a desire in her heart to pummel something very hard, and that scared her. Everyone in the Fellowship had been very nice to her, but the Hobbits kept their distance, and the men and wizard never seemed to include her in anyway into their conversation. And they hadn't even *started* on their journey.  
  
The night before, Bilbo had given her a lovely present of a sheath for her sword, which had some pretty runes on. Vireth had found her some warm cloaks/blankets/towels, and had even enlisted help in the form of her chirpy brother Barandor to put the wheel back on her bicycle, which meant she didn't need to walk to Mordor.  
  
The violin would have to be taken, (Ginny refused point blank to leave it behind) she would carry it by the shoulder strap, and she had her supply of food and dried fruit for the scurvy.  
  
She had taken everything that she could, but inevitably, some things would have to go. Her maths textbook she was not at all sad to lose. Of what was left were such things like her lunch box, emptied of it's perishable goods, (She gave her banana intended for lunch to Pippin, who remarked that it 'didn't feel right eating something shaped like a-' and there he had been thankfully interrupted. Hobbits were very coarse sometimes. Sam finished off her peanut butter sandwiches.) But the crisps and the KitKat were saved. She took her 500ml bottle of mineral water as well as her notebook. If she couldn't write about her experiences, then she might as well kill herself. All this plus the supplies that Rivendell had to offer meant that Ginny's bag would seriously stunt her growth. Get ready for sore shoulders.  
  
Hooray for Rivendell.  
  
Elrond watched. He said nothing, just watched. He watched the way Sam protected his master, his arms ready to fly out and support him if his strength should fail, and he felt another pang of guilt for the hobbit's pains. But he had done all he could for that morgul wound, yet it would never heal.  
  
He watched the girl carefully. He never said to her how much she annoyed him. She should be grateful she was getting a free tour of Middle Earth, the land she apparently knew so much about. He had been kind enough not to reprimand her for running around that afternoon, especially with the brother of a serving-girl, romping around like that.  
  
And so the Nine Walkers of the Fellowship, plus one displaced adolescent girl left Rivendell, with hearts heavy and one singing Evanescence. Waving them out were the Rivendellians, hope and pride in their hearts.  
  
The sun was setting, making the sky glow a fiery red. Ginny took a breath of that lovely misty mountain air and turned to the wizened old wizard beside her, and decided to quote the film again.  
  
"So, Gandalf, which way to Mordor?"  
  
And Gandalf said  
  
"Left." 


	8. The Sue is Unleashed

Part 8  
  
Caranithilwen' is a monstrosity I just made up/ stole from another story. This chapter contains what some might call sacrilege. The Sue is out, run for your lives!  
  
**************************************************************************** ********************************  
  
They were sitting round a campfire. There was actually a *campfire*.  
  
Ginny rubbed her hands and tried not to toast them on the meagre flames. It had taken three hours to light, and no, Gandalf couldn't use his magic, because that would be a waste, and only Sam had thought of bringing a tinderbox, but he was grumpy because he couldn't find his rope again.  
  
Bill the pony grazed in a corner, while the Fellowship sat in a ring ate some of their meagre rations. Ginny, famished, devoured the last of her KitKat she had brought, while Pippin and Merry groped for some of the chocolate crumbs. They'd certainly developed a taste for it.  
  
So here they were in Hollin, or Eregion, tired, hungry and depressed. What would Susie say? Thought Ginny, and couldn't help feeling a little smug. It had taken over a fortnight, but now they were finally here. Ginny was lucky. Thank god she had the bicycle and didn't have to walk. She had to wait for everyone to catch up now and then, but she loved watching the expression on their faces as they struggled. Sometimes she let one of the Hobbits ride on the back, for which they were very grateful, but she had to strap her violin case there always. The rest of her stuff she'd made a sort of wire basket for like on old-fashioned bikes, so they wouldn't fall off.  
  
The fire spluttered, and Boromir tossed another branch on. Ginny's eyes narrowed. The woodpile was diminishing greatly in size. No, no one had thought of needing fuel for a fire, so it was up to Ginny and Sam and Merry and Pippin to find some wood. Only Aragorn (or Strider as he preferred to be called) helped in any way. No, you couldn't ask the Prince of Mirkwood get it, or a Lord of Gondor. Ask the Ringbearer to get it, and you got a wallop on the ear from the high and mighty maia-istar-wizard, who'd forbidden them from lighting any kind of fire for days. Thank god she had her blanket. The nights were cold, so cold. All she remembered was the icy wind. She had to huddle with a hobbit. Needless to say, she had not been sleeping well. Her face was pale, and she had shadows under her eyes. But even without the constant snoring, she probably couldn't sleep anyway. Sleeplessness came naturally to her. How she wished she had her lovely blue cotton-polyester-blend blue snugly duvet.  
  
The men had tried to be considerate, and arranged her her own private places at night for her convenience and privacy, but she'd felt vulnerable and depressed by herself, away from the camp circle.  
  
"Day is coming," said Gandalf. That meant they had stayed up all night. But how could you tell? It seemed all like one long day. Ginny had not washed or changed her clothes throughout (and had to clean her teeth with her finger). Her hair was matted and filthy so she decided away with the brush and tied it up into a ponytail. She knew she smelled. But she didn't care. The others were undoubtedly worse.  
  
The horizon was a line of red fire. Ginny yawned.  
  
Eregion was, without a doubt, easily the most boring place she had ever been to. It was impossible to imagine it as the former abode of Elves, especially Celebrimbor. It was just so . . . dull. And depressing. It seemed like a land empty of life.  
  
Aragorn came down from the dell he had been standing in for over an hour (he had a tendency to do that a lot).  
  
"What is the matter Strider?" cried one of the hobbits, "What are you looking for? Do you miss the east wind?"  
  
"No indeed," he answered, "But I miss something. I have been in the country of Hollin in many seasons. No folk dwell here now, but many other creatures live here at all times, especially birds. Yet now all things are silent. There is no sound for miles, and your voices make the ground echo. I do not understand it."  
  
Ah, this is where the crows arrive, thought Ginny to herself.  
  
"Then we must be careful," said Gandalf. "If you bring a Ranger with you, it is well to pay attention to him, especially if that Ranger is Aragorn. We must stop talking now, rest quietly, and set the watch."  
  
Trust Gandalf to stop all their fun.  
  
*****************  
  
In the house of Elrond, Erestor was having a trying day. The guest room arranged for the dwarves were a mess, and guess to had to have it all cleaned up. That's right. He was definitely not in a good mood.  
  
"Over there, those sheets must be removed." He pointed to a maid, who obeyed. Then he remembered that this was the room prepared for the strange but annoying girl Not From This World. She had left some of the things that she couldn't take along on the dressing table. They were mainly bits of junk, bus tickets, pieces of paper, and a very thick heavy book with soft, bright coloured covers. He picked it up with scorn.  
  
Erestor couldn't read English, but if he could, he would have known that the letters on the front spelt 'Maths Is Fun!!!' However, he did identify the cartoon boy with mathematic symbols flying around his head.  
  
It would amaze many people to know that even thousand of years ago, representations of numbers or amounts would still look the same as today. Such mind-boggling coincidences meant that elves could recognise the numbers one to ten; and mathematic symbols weren't that different from their own.  
  
Erestor flipped through the bright inked pages dismissively, then he stopped at a chapter, headed: Algebra and the Uses of FOIL  
  
His eyes widened.  
  
****************  
  
Ginny slept, soundly, for once. Sam was keeping watch, and Aragorn was accompanying him. She was warm, and her sleep was dreamless.  
  
And then she woke up, to the sound of panic. The fire had been doused very quickly, the smoke spirals still twirled. Everyone seemed worried; Aragorn and Gandalf were discussing something with some distress.  
  
". . . crebain out of Fangorn and Dunland. . ." she caught the words.  
  
Oh. Was that all?  
  
"We are being watched." He concluded.  
  
"Well duh," said Ginny as sarcastically as she could, "Why don't we just go across Caradhras then?"  
  
Gandalf stared at her for a moment. Then he said,  
  
"Now there's an idea."  
  
Ginny groaned and went back to sleep. The image of a palantir appeared briefly in her dozing, and an eyeball on fire gave a cameo.  
  
*  
  
Pippin had been most annoyed when they had told him that there were no more warm meals and that they were moving again by night, Ginny no less. For the rest of they day they hid in crevices and under sheltered skeleton bushes, and Ginny doodled in her notebooks, as spells of dark birds passed overhead in intervals. When the moon came out, they rose to leave, only to find another dark cloud covering the light briefly.  
  
"It may be nothing." Said Gandalf, "only a wisp of thin cloud."  
  
"It was moving fast then."  
  
"And against the wind." Said Ginny, sighing. Let them get on with their storyline. She couldn't be bothered to put in the effort of changing anything anymore. She couldn't estimate how much weight she'd lost. Thighs trimmed, tighter paler cheeks, and no need for a bra anymore (though she never had anything to put in it in the first place), and she could play xylophone on her ribcage; this was quite the adventure.  
  
On they walked, Ginny riding at snails pace on her bicycle, her violin strapped onto the back and her bag resting on the front. Gandalf led the way, talking to no one except Strider, and sometimes Frodo. In the rear was Legolas. Ginny doubted if ninety percent of them knew where they were actually going.  
  
Before them stood the colossal mountain that had shadowed their way for days on end. Ah. It began to get bitterly cold, and Ginny's fingers were too numb to hold onto her handlebars, so she wrapped some woollen cloth around them to warm them up.  
  
They camped once at the base of the mountain, and then headed for the snowy slopes. At the base of the mountain were the heavily wooded slopes, rugged and steep. Ginny struggled to ride. The path Gandalf chose was bumpy and coarse, and it was hard work. She was out of breath very quickly, and the air was clear, but sharp and cold, like vaporised oven cleaner.  
  
And then it started snowing. At first, gently, and then heavier, until it was no more snow than white pumice.  
  
When Ginny found out that she could no longer ride her bike up the icy slopes, she was mortified. The wheels kept slipping, and her vision was seriously impaired with all that snow flying about. Her glasses were freezing over, and she decided to put them away and do without. At least she could see better, even if everything looked like a painting out of Monet.  
  
"You look much nicer without them," Sam assured her.  
  
Gripping her thick cloak/blanket around her neck, she pushed the bike up the slopes. She was rather afraid the metal would rust, and then what would she do? She couldn't carry the bloody thing, with everything else she had. Boromir had advised them to carry a faggot of wood each for a fire, and she wished they would light one. To feel that toasty warmth now would be bliss.  
  
"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy," started Boromir.  
  
"You mean Saruman?" said Ginny without thinking. The tall man stared at her.  
  
"Nay, you are mistaken. I was speaking of the Dark Lord."  
  
"But the snow is being caused by Saruman."  
  
Boromir gave a sharp swift laugh. The others joined in briefly and unenthusiastically.  
  
"Saruman is none of our concern, yet. We have only one common enemy. And that is Sauron."  
  
"And his arm has grown long indeed if he can draw snow down from the north to trouble us here three hundred leagues away." Laughed Gimli.  
  
Gandalf did not laugh.  
  
"His arm has grown long." He said.  
  
Ginny sighed and slumped down on the dusty earth floor and resolutely refused to get up. Almost instantly, the wind died.  
  
"I'm *tired*." She whined, "I haven't eaten in ages."  
  
Pippin instantly seized the opportunity to sit down with her. He knew what it was like to lag behind and have to try and keep up. Merry sighed, and joined his friend in the sit-in. Eventually everyone had to relent to a rest. Pippin cheered immediately, but Ginny could see that he had grown thinner too. She mentally resolved to carry him on her Raleigh whenever she could.  
  
After all, it's hard when you're a *very* small hobbit.  
  
*****************************  
  
Standing in the small backyard lawn of number 67, Adenell road, Susie muttered to herself. It was a good thing it was dark, or the neighbours may have been wondering why the girl next door was out in the middle of the night in a powder blue bridesmaid dress with crinoline (though in the dark - who could tell?), a scabbard at her waist, a quiver on her back and a wooden bow in her hand.  
  
Closer inspection would reveal that her face was heavily powdered with iridescent opalescent glitter stuffs and her hair was adorned with so many jewels and clips it brought to mind the words: Wig and Hullabaloo. At her neck glistened something so tacky Celebrimbor might have invented it. It claimed to be a diamond necklace, but those with sense, and perhaps taste, would have instantly known otherwise. She had stuck something skin coloured and gelatinous to her ears to try and make them look pointy, and failing miserably. Silver shaded contact lenses were stuck on her eyeballs to try and make them sparkle more, and that shade of lipstick was not doing her any favours.  
  
She was also practising her voice, singing something that Enya would probably vomit with rage at.  
  
And she also had a checklist.  
  
"Full moon . . ." she muttered, looking up at the sky," . . . check."  
  
She glanced at her watch, which flashed 23:57, "Midnight . . . check; Carriage dress, check; Chain mail bikini . . . check. Magical Elven Blessed Sword . . . check. Magical Elven Blessed Bow . . . check. Arrows . . . check. Magical Elven Blessed Pendant with Diamond . . . check. Changes of underwear . . . check. Hairbrush . . . check. Magical mirror . . . check. Magical familiar/animal/pet." She nudged the wrapped bundle on the ground with her foot,  
  
"Everything's here."  
  
"Good." Said a voice belonging to LaRose, "Now drink it, and concentrate on Middle Earth and getting there to exactly where the Fellowship are, and also dragging back the other girl to her rightful world. And remember, save some! This will be your course back when you finish your trip. The drink will take you to Middle Earth easily, but something must be exchanged. Be absolutely careful what goes through your thoughts, you don't want to think about pink elephants, lest one fall in your backyard, or even crush Gandalf as it falls on top of him. You must only concentrate on getting there, and getting the other girl back. No one else."  
  
"Ginny, I know. I concentrate on her coming back here, and me taking her place and no one else. Can we go now?"  
  
"Wait! It must strike midnight first!"  
  
"Why not now?"  
  
"Because of Drama. There is no point appearing magically *anywhere* unless you do it at the correct time. No person in his or her right mind would appear at eleven twenty seven at a waning moon. You need *light*, you need a full moon. And everything must happen at midnight."  
  
"Must be an hour for busy things."  
  
"Hm." Said LaRose cuttingly "I leave you now." And then she was gone. She could at least leave a puff of smoke, Susie thought.  
  
Shaking, she took the small glowing bottle gently in her fingers, breathing heavily. So this was it. All those archery and elvish lessons had paid off. She was going to claim her Destiny at long last.  
  
She closed her eyes and thought immediately of him, the blond Elf that she knew to be the son of Thranduil and her destined lover. The bottle was held to her lips and she gulped half of the violet liquid.  
  
A wave of icy blast hit her in the throat, as if she'd swallowed volcanic ice cubes. Thoughts and images rushed through her head like a bullet through water: She concentrated on Middle Earth and images of the Fellowship, placing herself among them; but then the images came back -- she saw her love, the blond Elf that was Legolas.  
  
But no.  
  
She strayed too long on him. She saw him in front of her right now.  
  
And then she saw snow.  
  
The earth moved.  
  
*******************************  
  
Snow came suddenly tumbling down in the Fellowship in a massive heap as they walked, smothering and crushing them to the ground. Ginny screamed, but it was muffled with the sheer weight of ice. The breath was squeezed out of her. For a moment, the ten travellers lay submerged in a load of snow.  
  
Then out of the pile, Legolas' head appeared first. He shook free his mane of unspoilt hair and clambered up to safety. More heads emerged, Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, and they assisted in the searching of the hobbits, and Ginny.  
  
Ginny couldn't breathe - she was numb with cold. She couldn't open her eyes because the snow around her face made her blink. But there was the sound of scrambling, and then a warm hand touched her shoulder. Then grabbed it and pulled her through the thick layer of blanketing flurry.  
  
"Bloody Crap!" She screamed as she reached the surface. She never quite got the hang of proper swearing.  
  
"Save your breath," said the gruff voice of Gimli, "We've yet to find Frodo."  
  
Sam was hauled out, gasping for air. He ducked down and then a moment later, his master appeared, in the same state. Relief rolled off Gandalf in waves. The hobbit was dazed to be alive, his hair was sopping wet, and he struggled with his shirt's top button, undoing it to let himself breathe.  
  
Ginny's eyes were drawn to his neck: there was nothing there. And then Boromir bent down in the snow and picked up something.  
  
The One Ring to Rule Them All.  
  
It was amazing how she had never noticed it before -- at the Council, it had long been put away before she'd even arrived, but it appealed to her like nothing she'd ever known. It was chocolate, it was money, it was CDs -- it was everything she'd ever wanted . . . it was Power, dangling so innocently on one thin chain. She herself was *lusting* for it.  
  
And she could tell she wasn't the only one.  
  
Aragorn was swallowing hard when he told Boromir to return the object - his eyes never left it. Ginny was silent throughout, but she couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards.  
  
As they camped that night, letting themselves rest and dry out a bit at least, she asked Legolas about it.  
  
"Do not think it says nothing to me." He replied, "It calls to all of us, more to some than others, but no one is safe from its seduction. I have been valiant against it, but it eats away at you when you least suspect. I would give my life for this quest; I have put too much into it to let it fail now by my own weaknesses. I have pledged my bow and I will not fail, and even if I do, then it shall not be in vain, and no one should suffer because of my deeds. The quest will continue, even if I should die in the process."  
  
"Sounds to me like you're planning to be a martyr."  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"Well, it's like you're sacrificing yourself for the good of mankind, elfkind even. It's very noble and all, but very, very stupid. Know what I mean?"  
  
"I . . . think so."  
  
"It doesn't matter anyway. You'll survive the quest and go to Valinor, despite what you think Galadriel is saying to you." And then Ginny went to relieve herself, answer the call of nature if you like. Oh, you know what I mean. Very inconvenient because of the lack of bushes, obviously.  
  
"What did she-?" called Legolas.  
  
And then:  
  
There was a 'thud' sound, as if something had just fallen through the air.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"Susie?!" Ginny shrieked, running out from behind the clump of mossy rocks.  
  
"Bitchface?!" Susie rubbed her arms, "Shit is it cold!" Ginny chose to ignore the first comment. The two girls stood up out of the rocks.  
  
"What is going on there?" cried Strider, and then he saw Susie in her powder blue carriage gown and her array of weapons hanging off her person.  
  
"Who - what are you?!"  
  
Susie smiled.  
  
"I'm Susie, but *you* can call me Caranithilwendiriel!" her voice rang bells. Wedding bells.  
  
The Fellowship were coming forward, even Gandalf.  
  
"Gin, how did you bring her here?" his voice was stern. Come to think of it, his voice was always stern. It was any sterner, you could have used him as a screwdriver.  
  
"I didn't-" Susie stepped forward elegantly.  
  
"No, I brought myself. I've come to claim my Destiny, and I shall lead you all to Freedom and Salvation!" She raised her magnificent sword in the frozen air and stuck a magnificent pose. Light glinted off her shining hair, reflecting from the blade.  
  
There was silence. If there were crickets, they would have chirped.  
  
"You?" said Sam, "You're nothing but a girl!" Susie ruffled her dress.  
  
"Be it so, O short one, but I could beat all of you in battle - together!!" She pointed to Aragorn and Boromir. They would have replied, if their mouths hadn't frozen open.  
  
"Susie!" Ginny tried again, "How on earth did you get here? The portal disappeared!"  
  
Susie wrinkled her nose at Ginny.  
  
"What is that smell?!"  
  
"Er, me, probably. I haven't changed my socks in a week." Her cheeks flushed bright pink.  
  
"Dude! There's a thing called deodorant you know!"  
  
"Well I couldn't take it along with all the other things I'm carrying."  
  
"What, are we on Everest or something?"  
  
She looked around the scene, and then stared scrutinising at Aragorn and Boromir.  
  
"Gees, have you ever heard of a thing called a razor? You don't wanna end up like Gandy-man, do you?" Gandalf humphed loudly.  
  
And then Gimli ran forward.  
  
"Don't mean to alarm you all, and you two young ladies there, but has anyone seen Legolas? He's disappeared! His bow is still here!"  
  
It was lying on a boulder. Its owner was nowhere to be seen.  
  
All eyes were on Susie.  
  
"Damn!" She yelped, her hands flying to her mouth, dropping the glass vial that she was holding.  
  
Several seconds later heralded the sound of tinkling glass as it broke into pieces. The bottle's contents lay condensing on rocks and snow.  
  
Susie looked down tearfully.  
  
"Double damn!"  
  
***  
  
How do you like this chapter? I'm not quite sure of it. If there's anything you think I should change about it, tell me.  
  
Oh, and thank you: Merrylyn, Lady Moon3, Gen Eveningstar, Daisy, Sharkey, sugaricing, arwentheelf02, Hiro-tyre, Linda13, Zero's Concubine, ElsahirErestar, diane, Blablover5, Yugure for supporting me while writing this, reviews make it all worthwhile; and anyone else I may have missed who read this and didn't review you know who you are. 


	9. Legolas' Excellent Adventure

Part 9: [egad, has it been nine chapters already? Sorry it took so long for this one to get out. I'm having real trouble with my muses. That and my Internet. Feckin' ntl:]  
  
Legolas and Susie switch places. So you'll be pleased there's no romance, well, at least not between *them*. Oh, and the things that Erestor talks about in this chapter may be likened an Elvish Pythagoras theorem. And the postman is the British postman, as is the post service. It's done the British way.  
  
*********************************************  
  
It seemed to Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood that one moment he was *here*, and the next minute he was not.  
  
For one thing, there was no snow; but it was still cold, in a feeble, damp, rainy way. The sky overhead was a dark navy, and he couldn't see any of the stars. He had no idea where he was without the stars.  
  
Legolas Greenleaf and his keen Elven senses knew immediately he was deep in shit.  
  
This place was . . . strange. He was standing on stone plates, but they were cut smooth, and there were little cracks between them, and little grubby white patches were dotted on them. Some stuck to the soles of his shoes. This was weird. Either side of him were rows and rows of square grey buildings with square windows.  
  
He had no idea how he'd got here, except that he had probably left his bow behind. Bloody, bloody damn. He decided to explore this strange avenue.  
  
There was light, but it was not sunlight, nor the white, clean light of the moon and stars. It was orange, and foul, and it was emitted from those tall straight metal-stone trees that grew every few feet along the road, no, there weren't trees, they were poles. And yes, it was definitely a road, though it was covered in a hard, black rubbery layer.  
  
There was a sound, and he poised himself, ready to defend. It was coming along the 'road'. He could barely shout before a great metal beast came past him, faster than anything he'd ever seen. He dreaded to think what would happen if he got in the way of one of them. But they had *wheels*. They were . . . machines, engines, running in a straight line. There came a loud voice from inside the metal thing, but he couldn't understand English, and he couldn't understand what "Getthehellofftheroad ya-pixie!" meant. He jumped back, heart beating.  
  
Eventually he found shelter of some sorts behind a low wall, resting his head and his eyes until morning came.  
  
What was this world?  
  
Why was he here?  
  
****************************************  
  
"No, my lord, you do not understand, 'x' can mean anything. But you see, if 'x' added to, say four, equals nine, then 'x' would have to be five!" he coloured a little, "I just thought you should know."  
  
Elrond paused. The turned to face his chief counsellor  
  
"Ingenious!" he cried, "This is a revelation! If this 'x' can be anything, imagine what else it could do!"  
  
Erestor hesitated.  
  
"It doesn't quite work like that."  
  
"Then how do you explain how bracket, ecks plus yanta, multiplied by bracket, ecks minus yanta, can equal ecks squared take away yanta squared??"  
  
"Er, that was what I came to consult you about. And there is also the matter of how Ah squared added to Umbar squared can be the same as Calma squared."  
  
"Hmm. This is intriguing. If only Lord Mithrandir were here, I would ask him what his thoughts were."  
  
"Indeed. Lady Galadriel would be quite fascinated herself. Do you think she can read these numbers?"  
  
"No, but they are not difficult. They are merely replicas, as I told you, of the numerical system in Rhun, and maybe some parts of Harad. That is a one; that is a seven. That is a . . . five, while the other is a two . . either that or the sign for 'donkey'. Estel has shown me them many times. I do not know why he exerts himself like that. He is busy enough now, what with Arwen . . . Yes. I think my mother-in-law would be delighted with this. Indeed, I will have to send word to her."  
  
"Yes, m'lord."  
  
"And Erestor?"  
  
"Lord Elrond?"  
  
"I cannot read all of the words, though we can both read the numbers, but still: what is a 'hipp-ot-en-yuse'?"  
  
***************************************  
  
The Fellowship of the Ring was in disarray. They were one short, well, technically. But now they'd just got a replacement, who was currently filing her nails with a worried frown on her face.  
  
"Susie, why are you here?" Ginny cried, exasperated.  
  
"Why do you think? Don't tell me you never noticed my full name, for that you can blame my mother, I'm meant to come here. Except I was supposed to have the rest of my stuff. I've lost my magical familiar." She frowned.  
  
"No you're not! There are *nine* in the Fellowship, and now there are eleven, minus one. What would Tolkien say?"  
  
"Who's Tolkien? And besides, it wasn't him who was supposed to go back, it was you!" Ginny hesitated before answering.  
  
"That's not the point. Why are your eyes multicoloured? And anyway, how come you can speak Westron? I can understand you, but that's because of some magic they pulled. They don't speak English here, or haven't you noticed?"  
  
"Well, I guess I can speak Westron. I mean, it pretty much amounts to the same thing as English, and when you've learnt Elvish and Dwarvish and Entish and Quenya, it's not that hard anyway." As she talked in her drawling tone, the hobbits gazed at her words, nodding, rapt.  
  
"You can't know Elvish, it doesn't even exist!" Ginny wrung her frostbitten hands.  
  
"I got it off a website."  
  
"--Which just teach you phrases like 'go kiss an orc'. What good is that here?" Susie glared up at her.  
  
"Auta miqula orqu!" She cried vehemently. Aragorn turned to her, frowning,  
  
"Go kiss a what?!"  
  
"UH!" Ginny left her and walked to Gandalf.  
  
"What do we do now?" she said, echoing the words of hundreds before her, often the last words ever.  
  
"I do not know. I know not how Legolas was removed from us, and I do not know how to get him back to us. I have no idea where he may be. The quest stands on the edge of a knife now. We have lost one of our companions, but I do not think he is dead. He may return to us yet."  
  
"Of course he's not dead!" Everyone turned to look at her, "He's on Earth, he and Susie switched places, don't you see? Except it was supposed to be ME who switched with Susie, who can't work a spell and now's he's in sunny England, and she's here, so if we get her to go back the same way she came, Legolas will return here."  
  
'And I can go back with her,' she mentally added.  
  
Susie spoke up sheepishly,  
  
"Well, there's still the problem that I'm, ahem, *stuck* here. I smashed the bottle." Her schoolmate peered at her.  
  
"You got here with a *bottle*?"  
  
"The bottle contents actually."  
  
"But what about the book that Lord Glorfindel used that got Gin here in the first place?" Aragorn spoke up. There was a chorus of assent.  
  
"We cannot return to Rivendell bearing the ring when we have come so far!" Gandalf bellowed, "Spies will follow us, we could put Imladris in terrible danger. And it is much too late to return. We could send someone to fetch the book, but it needs the strength of Elrond to perform the magic required. It has taken us a month to get here, it is too long to return when our time is running out."  
  
There was silence as everyone thought over his words.  
  
"Oh great, now I'm stuck here." Susie muttered. She shivered, and snatched Ginny's blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Leaving enough cleavage in view, of course.  
  
"I thought you wanted that?" Ginny sighed.  
  
"Not permanently! You do realise they don't have chocolate or panty liners here!"  
  
"A long time ago, Susie." Ginny replied, flatly.  
  
"My name's not Susie. My name is Caranithilwendiriel."  
  
"How imaginative. How did you come up with that elvish?"  
  
"What elvish?"  
  
"I have decided." Gandalf boomed, "We cannot forfeit the quest now, and it is with a heavy heart that we continue our journey, without Legolas."  
  
"But we need a guy with a bow!" cried Ginny, "Then where's the canon?"  
  
"I can substitute!" 'Caranithilwendiriel' shouted majestically, her voice ringing in the cold air, "My shooting is ten times more accurate than any elf's!"  
  
Ginny buried her face in her hands.  
  
**************************************  
  
This surely had to be hell, thought Legolas as he looked around. These houses were . . . so strange, made of stones so square it was amazing. Everything had a dull neatness to it, and the doors had little decorative panes of glass in. Light was randomly emitted form some.  
  
But the air was so . . . filthy. A slight but continuous odour hung in the air, a faint vapour of burnt things that never seemed to disperse. He sniffed gingerly. There did not seem to be any dangers lurking here, it was far too dull, and besides, the sun was coming up.  
  
Legolas sat down with a resourceful air at the edge of the pavement and waited patiently. He didn't know what for, but there was little else he could do until he could find help of some sorts. At least, when Arien the sun was fully up, he could find his way around easier.  
  
As he rested, he watched a man with a bright shoulder bag and jacket walk down the street. He went to almost every door, not knocking, but taking some wads of paper out of his bag and pushing them into a slot in the wood. What was this person?  
  
A gate creaked open behind him, and he swung around to meet the intruder with superb reflexes. His bow was still in Middle earth, but his long dagger was already half drawn.  
  
Two people were now staring at him: the postman, who had dropped his bag, and Beruthia 'Ruth' Smith. The latter's eyes were a big as a mushroom.  
  
"What the-"  
  
Legolas stared at her. Something stirred in her memory, and then he remembered where he had seen her face. It was the same face he had seen in the portal that was supposed to bring Susie the Lost Star, but brought Ginny instead. Well, it wasn't the exact same face; it was more defined than Susie's, the face rounder, the hair paler and almost red. Could this be his supposed-to-be soul mate's relative?  
  
"Susie?" He whispered the name that had been told to him.  
  
"Dear God," Ruth was whimpering. It didn't take a genius to work out who was standing in front of her right now: he looked not a lot different to Orlando Bloom in the film, "Susie, what have you done?! Mother!! What have you *done*?!"  
  
The woman was babbling, but Legolas put away the offending blade, and walked toward her. She was not as young as he'd first thought; she looked about thirty or forty in mortal appearance, yet there was something about her, something he'd envisioned in the portal. This had to be Susie's mother.  
  
Instead of meeting the acorn, I'm meeting the oak, he thought as he stared. Being from Mirkwood, trees were never far from his mind.  
  
"Elbereth," he murmured in his own tongue of Mirkwood, but she'd heard it. She seemed to understand it. Her brow was knotted, and to his surprise, she was replying in shaky sindarin.  
  
"Is, are . . . you . . . Legolas?" she said in sindarin, her tone quavering. This was the first time she had ever used an elvish tongue for real in her life. LaRose had forced her to learn it from when she was only 6, everyday after school, in preparation for when she ever met an elf. Pointless, it had been, for the last thirty years, since she never went to middle earth to 'claim her destiny' and 'fulfil the prophecy', but now it was finally coming into play.  
  
Why, oh why did it have to be in a situation like this?! She wailed mentally.  
  
"Where are I, who are you? How did I get here? How do I get back?!" the elf cried again harshly in his language, while behind him the postman was positively running for the next street. Ruth processed this in her mind and tried to translate, before attempting to answer.  
  
"I, er, am . . . a friend," she translated, with the help of hand gestures, "My name is Ruth. Um. You are now in new ground . . . er . . . modern earth."  
  
Well, he took that well, she thought.  
  
"And how did I get here?" he asked again. Ruth thought for a moment.  
  
"You'll have to blame my mother and my daughter for that." She said carefully, remembering Elven vocabulary as she went, "You've met my daughter I assume?"  
  
Legolas shook his head.  
  
"Oh." And then the full reality of the situation hit her, " Dear god, I have an elf in my front garden." She murmured, returning to English. Suddenly, her sense of balance evaporated, and she sank down onto the wall, her hand on her forehead. The elf looked on, a worried frown on his face.  
  
And then she was up again seconds later, forcefully pushing the blond, confused elf through the door of her house, all the time muttering,  
  
"Needs clothes, needs to look normal . . . tie hair back to cover ears. Curse you mother. "  
  
"I hope I won't be a problem to you," Legolas said shyly.  
  
"No! Not at all, despite the fact you are a fictitious character of a fictitious race from a fictitious book, currently in what is know as the real world! Well, as far as we know." Her tone was not happy.  
  
Legolas remained silent as she made him 'welcome' in her small, cramped and strangely furnished home, bidding him be quiet for fear of waking her husband. He drank the drink she had made him; It tasted sweet yet bitter - 'tea', she had called - he drank it without objection, and sat quietly on the 'sofa' without dispute. Ruth sighed, satisfied. He was doing well so far. No shock signs at all.  
  
Getting him to wear 'normal' clothes was harder though. He refused to change out of his Mirkwood garb, and complained about the blue canvas breeches that Ruth had found for him. She persisted that he had to look right to avert suspicion, "for no one could find out that Legolas from Lord of the Rings was in the real world". Finally, after much hushed deliberation, he settled on a cotton green T-Shirt and a woolly jumper that belonged to Ruth's husband, and some khaki cords. They were too short and baggy for his tall, lithe frame, but it was a large improvement.  
  
While he was changing, Legolas heard Ruth in the hallway, talking to someone.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, thanks Vicky. I know, it is a bother for you, sorry 'bout that. Just tell them . . . I've got a foreign relative come over, no he can't speak English, that's why I have to help him round, ya know. Yeah, got no money either. Nah, I'm coping ok. Class it under domestic leave, 'k?"  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Alright, alright, tell them I'll be in tomorrow. Yes, I will. I will! I promise. Okay. Bye then."  
  
And then she came back into the room, putting on her outdoor coat.  
  
"Whom were you speaking to?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"My friend, my colleague."  
  
He watched her face carefully.  
  
"I heard no other voice." He said suspiciously  
  
"I was on the phone. The telephone. It converts your voice into 'electronic' (just think lightning) signals and transfers them across a grid . . . network to the person you desire to speak to and turns it back into sound. So they hear your voice as if they were talking to you in person."  
  
"I . . . see."  
  
He hesitated.  
  
"We . . . do not have those in Greenwood. I have never heard of such a thing in Middle Earth. But I think someone may invent it if they have the resources in Valinor." He sounded almost resentful.  
  
"That is disputable. Are you going to tie your hair back? No one wears their hair like that here. You'll have to undo those braids if you want to go out." She moved forward to him to tie his hair, but he was quicker, and grasped her wrist firmly, but gently, away from him.  
  
"Please, I will do it myself. Now tell me where we are going." He said, his voice strained.  
  
She freed herself and sighed.  
  
"I'd never thought I'd have to say this again; It was hard enough the first time with Tom . . ." she cleared her throat, "We're going to see my mother."  
  
***  
  
Squeak.  
  
Squeak.  
  
Creak.  
  
"Can't you make that thing be quiet?" Said Susie through her teeth. Ginny coloured and blushed.  
  
"It's not my fault. The snow's made it rust."  
  
"Be quiet, the two of you; you've made it hard enough already." Came the gruff voice of Gandalf, but he gave Susie a condoling smile, at which Ginny scowled. Aragorn and Boromir heard nothing; they were too preoccupied with carrying the hobbits piggyback down the snowy mountain. Ginny could see their breath condensing in the sharp air. Sweat was on their foreheads as they waded through the waist high snow. She bit her lip. She'd had her share or Gandalf's miruvor (which made her wonder why Elrond only gave ONE phial, and to HIM), but the effects were wearing off.  
  
She *had* tried riding through the snow, and the result was that her bicycle was rusting badly. It had been all she could do so that they wouldn't use her violin for fuel when they had run out of wood.  
  
Finally, they were going to get off this goddamn mountain and get on with the plot.  
  
*  
  
"My giddy aunt." Were the first words LaRose spoke when she saw the six- foot elf cross her threshold, followed by her own daughter.  
  
"Nice to see you too mother," hailed Ruth curtly, taking off her coat and shoes as she stepped inside.  
  
"Is that who I think it is?"  
  
Ruth paused.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The elf came forward, and extended a rigid hand, smiling proudly. LaRose stared at it as if it was a slug bathing in salt.  
  
"I taught him to do that." Said Ruth meekly.  
  
"Hallo, ant god dey. How ah you?" spoke the Elf. It was a while before LaRose could close her mouth.  
  
"He's worse than your husband." She said finally, breathless.  
  
"His name is Tom, you know."  
  
LaRose frowned.  
  
"I thought he was Legolas?"  
  
"No, not *him*. Oh never mind. You know why we're here." They went swiftly into the lounge.  
  
"NO. No I don't. I don't know why *you* are here. There is no reason for you to be. But HIM."  
  
As mother and daughter argued, Legolas explored the room. It was small and cramped, like Ruth's house, and smelled faintly of dried flowers. There were numerous ornaments around the side, even a ram's skull, and several rather gruesome paintings. LaRose was not the rocking chair grandmother that knitted. Her mantelpiece was clean bare, save for a few McDonald's Happy Meal toys arranged tidily, and hanging above the mantelpiece on the wall, there was  
  
"How did anyone obtain this?" He spoke in Westron.  
  
It was a sword. A large sword. A large, bright sword, with several large rubies in the hilt. It echoed magic. It was the ultimate symbol to Destiny. And it also happened to belong to Thranduil of Mirkwood.  
  
LaRose looked in his direction, and reddened. She took down the sword before legolas could touch it and then tried to assume a 'There's- absolutely-nothing-behind-my-back' stance. But he had seen it.  
  
"That is my father's sword. It was specially forged for him by the blacksmiths of Esgaroth. He passed it unto me. I own it." He said gravely.  
  
"He said-" Ruth started  
  
"I know what he said!" LaRose cried. She switched to perfect Elvish, and replied haughtily "It is not what it looks like. This sword does not belong to you. It is mine. I acquired this a long time ago, and it has been in this room ever since."  
  
There was a bitter stare between the two, but something more in the eyes of LaRose. Regret. Ruth hesitated, but then took the sword.  
  
"This is not the time. Legolas is in Modern Earth, or haven't you noticed? So what are you going to do about it?" she snapped at her mother, who folded her arms defiantly.  
  
"This is not my fault. Who'd have thought your daughter was so useless. I told you to nurture her; I told you she needed angst to go with it all, but no-o. You've always been so overprotective. How's she going to survive Helm's Deep or Pelennor Fields like that? Silly girl, at least she's there now."  
  
She indicated the stairs  
  
"Don't go up there, she blew up the attic last time she was here. Who'd have thought oyster excretion could have such a dynamic effect?" 


	10. Surfing the Crimson Wave

A/N: I have to take this moment to apologise for not updating for so long. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry. I've decided to continue with this. It won't be a reality-Sue – well, it'll try and show the suffering of the fellowship as much as possible in that context – but if it were a real Reality-Sue, then neither Susie nor Ginny would be there. Let us just say... I intend to punish the Mary Sue(s) as much as possible.  
  
I'd like to thank all those who have read and reviewed, and a thank you to Obi-Zahn Kenobi– for your helpful advice. May I just take this moment now to say that all bad Elvish from Susie's mouth is intentional.  
  
This chapter may deal with, ahem, _womanly issues_. If you are peevish about these things: sorry, but tough. Feel free to skip this chapter. If your initials just _happen_ to be M.B, my good acquaintance and familiar hypocrite, also: tough. I guess this idea was partly inspired by you, its purpose to irk you as much as my sanity allows.  
  
To all: enjoy!

* * *

Ten: Surfing the Crimson Wave  
  
Ginny woke before everyone else, noticing that the sky was a dark shade of purple. Sam, who was supposed to be on guard, was resting his head on his backpack, snoring.  
  
"You're doing a great job, Samwise." She whispered, and he snorted gently.  
  
It was, what, how many days since days since they'd set off? It had been only a couple since Susie had dropped in so kindly on them, and already she was being accepted into the Fellowship. Worse, she was now being trusted by the Fellowship, though Ginny had a feeling not by all. It turns out that Gimli had the most sense after all. He'd been much more restless without an Elf to banter with. And Legolas' absence had meant it had taken much longer to get down Caradhras. Ginny missed him. He was someone she could talk to sometimes, that wasn't obsessed with mushrooms.  
  
She blinked heavily and rubbed her eyes, and scrambled around her pockets, finally coming up with the now rather twisted glasses. She bent them back into shape with her fingers, wiping the lenses clean with her now grey shirt. Putting them on made the world a clearer place.  
  
Sitting next to the doused campfire was Susie, sleeping, huddled in a foetus position; but what was strange was the fact that she was wearing her blanket over her head. And she was also murmuring and rocking back and forth.  
  
"Susie," Ginny shook her awake rather forcefully. She gave no quarters in being cruel to her, because she was guaranteed to get the same treatment back.  
  
"What?" was the muffled answer. Ginny tugged the blanket off. There was a yelp, and Susie's pale hand yanked it back, over her face.  
  
"What's wrong with you? Are you sick? In which case you should've thought of that before you came here!"  
  
Her companion said nothing, but continued in her previous fashion, murmuring, head covered with the grey blanket. Only a few more rounds at tug of war broke her will.  
  
"All RIGHT!" Susie cried, when the blanket had finally been taken out of her reach. Hiding her face in her hands she whispered deathly, "I have a spot."  
  
There was a long silent pause. Sam's snores increased in volume.  
  
"A spot?! A pimple? A blemish? A zit? . . . You!" Ginny laughed, "Who'd have thought it?"  
  
Susie scowled. She showed her face. There was indeed a spot. It was very pink, very large, and on the tip of her nose. She covered it quickly so Ginny didn't have time to stare.  
  
"Yes." Was the hushed reply, "You don't happen to have any concealer on you?"  
  
"No. But I'll remember the next time I pack for a journey to MIDDLE EARTH to DESTROY THE RING."  
  
There was stirring in the bedrolls behind them.  
  
"What's going on?" Aragorn asked gruffly. Susie shrieked and pulled the blanket over her face again.  
  
"Susie's got a spot." Ginny said matter-of-factly, and was immediately hit by a stray cloak/pillow.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"You shut it! Besides, it's not like your love interest's going to see it! He's in England! Or have you forgotten?"  
  
"Quiet, the two of you!" Gandalf shouted, banging his staff onto the rock floor, "There are important things we must discuss today, and now is not the time to be discovered by the spies of Sauron OR Saruman. Elbereth, give me peace." He added.  
  
The two girls settled, still giving each other evil glances. Gandalf cleared his throat.  
  
"Sam, get the supplies ready. Aragorn, you are to lead for today. Merry, collect the sheets. Pippin, stock Bill. Ginny, you will make yourself be quiet."  
  
Ginny was scowling and murmuring quietly.  
  
"Where do we head now, Gandalf?" said Frodo.  
  
Gandalf hesitated, "We have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell."  
  
The hobbits brightened at the thought of Rivendell, even Ginny seemed hopeful. But it was not to be. She knew it already.  
  
"I wish I was back there," said Frodo, speaking up, "But how can I return without shame – unless there is indeed no other way, and we are already defeated?"  
  
Gandalf was about to answer, but Susie interrupted, forgetting her shameful spot.  
  
"We cannot return! The Ring is too great to suppress! The only way is forward! The RING MUST BE DESTROYED!"  
  
She regained her breath, chest heaving and eyes sparkling with hope. She looked round expectantly.  
  
"Well?" she said, "Aren't you going to cheer?"  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Why?" spoke Boromir, "You have already made your point clear. And we are going now, so you must hurry, for it would be a great shame if you were left behind." If Susie noticed the sarcasm in the man's voice, she made no reaction, but packed up her things and ran behind.  
  
They were to go on.

* * *

LaRose flicked the lamp on and directed the beam into Legolas' eyes. He squinted and tried to move his chair farther back.  
  
"Now," the lady said, calmly, "let's try again."  
  
The seated elf made no answer.  
  
"What is your name?" She asked.  
  
Legolas paused for a moment, and as if trying to recite a poem or a story, said  
  
"Leonard Green . . . is that right?"  
  
"Yes, very good. Now, repeat the rest of what I taught you."  
  
Legolas sighed and began.  
  
"My name is Leonard Green, I live at 66 St. Matthews Street with my mother's – aunt's – grandniece—"  
  
"--Maybe we should just shorten that to 'cousin'--"  
  
"--With my cousin . . . er, Ruth. Um. I was born in Helsinki in nineteen eighty one, but moved to England as an ex-ex—"  
  
"—Exchange student—"  
  
"—Exchange student. I study... metallurgy and pre-renaissance existences. My parents are from Glasgow and Kentucky, called Earl and Jane--"  
  
"--Hang on. I don't want him to be called 'Earl Green'. Sounds too much like tea. Timothy: lets call him that."  
  
"Why?" said Ruth, "it sounds nothing like 'Thranduil'"  
  
"Yes, but only someone with that kind of name would call their son Leonard. What about Thorold?"  
  
"Oh, right then."  
  
The elf shifted uncomfortably in his chair, silent as the two women talked. They were in LaRose's basement, and there weren't any windows. He could see quite a few spiders out the corner of his eyes, but they were miniscule, nothing like the ones in Greenwood. He knew his accent was terrible, but he was a quick learner, after all.  
  
He sighed. He was supposed to be saving the world, not trying to mask his Elven ears with sticky plasters and learning to speak English.  
  
Outside, a tall, graceful woman knocked on the front door. At the sound of the three decisive raps on wood, the two women jumped.  
  
"Oh, F-" said LaRose, "It's my doctor."  
  
Ruth stared at her mother, "Are you sick?"  
  
"No... she's just, um, well she's a ... consultant."  
  
"You never told me about any of this..."  
  
"Shut up girl and get Mr. Mirkwood away from here!" was the snapping reply.  
  
Legolas grumbled in sindarin as Ruth led him back up two narrow flights of stairs into the remains of a rather sooty attic. She closed the door lightly behind her, and listened for her mother's haughty voice greeting the new arrival. The young doctor's voice was clear and stiff.  
  
"What do we do now?" Legolas asked her quietly. His eyes narrowed at the sound of the intruder's voice.  
  
"Now?" Ruth sat down on a card crate, "Now we wait."

* * *

Through meadow and cliff they travelled, always silent, save for the clip- clop of bill's hooves, and the hobbits complaining about how hungry they were.  
  
Susie was becoming more and more quiet, her face contorted in a permanent frown. Her hand rarely strayed from the spot on her nose.  
  
Finally, walking beside her, Ginny couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
"WHAT is wrong with you?!" she yelled at her companion, "It's just a spot!"  
  
"I never get spots. Never ever." She replied, her voice low and warning.  
  
"That's stupid. Everyone gets spots."  
  
"I don't. Ever. Unless..." she looked down, and bit her lip. Then she promptly burst into tears.  
  
The fellowship turned to look at her, Boromir and Gimli snorting in disgust. Pippin half-wanted to go to her, but Merry held him back.  
  
"What, what?" Ginny said in a low voice.  
  
Susie whispered in her ear, when she thought no one was listening, "Unless... that time of the month has come." She bit her lip, eyes bleary, as if this were the greatest shame ever visited upon a stunning teenage prodigy.  
  
There were a few moments as Ginny digested this information. Somehow, her ears didn't register with her brain.  
  
"Um." Was all she could say.  
  
"I know," Susie whispered softly, as if she were pronouncing her own death sentence, "Do you have any... you know... amenities?"  
  
"You mean... pads or tampons?"  
  
Susie turned with the speed of sound, and her finger jumped to her lips, saying "Shh!"  
  
Ginny gave her a withering look.  
  
"You don't have to take it like you're 'unclean', you know. This may be the dark ages, but the people aren't that cruel. I don't think they'd know what a tampon is, let alone what they're for."  
  
"No! No! It's bad enough as it is!" Susie blew her nose, sobbing, "I'm a teenage girl in Middle Earth with no way back; my lover has disappeared, thanks to my mistake; I have to put on makeup because I've burnt my eyebrows; I have a giant spot on the end of my nose; I'm wearing a carriage gown in the freezing winter; I have no horse and I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING PERIOD!!!"  
  
She wailed loudly, but the Fellowship was too far ahead to hear her; either that, or they were deliberately ignoring her. Ginny, feeling embarrassed, patted her gently on the shoulder. Susie cried miserably and hugged her tightly, not letting go of her arms despite the smell. She looked so pathetic that Ginny almost felt sorry for her. Almost.  
  
Something must have happened within Ginny's subconscious, because she decided to be charitable, and gave her the sanitary pads she had taken with her, that she always kept in her school bag. She knew she would regret this; it may turn to be her time of the month soon, and she would have no supplies left. But she just couldn't stand the wailing the blonde girl gave.  
  
There was barely enough to last two days anyway. She gave Susie some privacy that night, as they sat around the non-existent campfire, and helpfully waited for her as Susie popped, red faced, into the bushes and emerged some time later, flushing badly. Ginny had explained to her, that when the kotex/bodyform supply was exhausted, the two girls would have to turn less hygienic solutions. The situation spelt rags. When the two were alone, Ginny showed her the cotton cloths Vireth had packed for her, designed to act as a medieval pantyliner. She told her what the maid from Rivendell had taught her, about how to use the rags. Susie said nothing throughout the tuition, her face a mask of acceptance.  
  
The few soiled pads would have to be disposed by digging a hole in the ground and burying them. Their plastic parts wouldn't disintegrate, but hopefully, spies wouldn't discover them. Rags... were worse. They would have to be washed everyday, and changed everyday, and there was barely enough water as it was. Ginny sighed, something she did on a regular basis now.  
  
Ginny didn't know why she was being so nice - she of all people wanted to see Susie suffer here; but when you had Frodo, Sam, Gandalf and Boromir... their lives would never be the same after this.  
  
And what about her? She couldn't stay here. Somewhere she knew she had to return to earth, but how, and when? Would she ever be the same? Could she return to normal life? Well, she knew the answer could never be 'yes'. She would be outcasted, even more so than now, and people would think she was a freak. They wouldn't believe her if she told them the truth, and she planned not to tell. She missed her parents, she really did; and her annoying brother and his annoying guitar groupies that used to gang up on her. She missed chocolate, and the Simpson's on TV. She missed hairdryers and electric showers. Most of all she missed her toothbrush. While reading the books and watching the films, it never occurred to her the daily torture the fellowship had to face. Everyone was paranoid; even trying to shit in the morning became a matter of life and death.  
  
And there was the whole niggling problem of 'Middle Earth didn't exist'. She'd tried to ignore it up to now, but at night, it left her extremely sleepless. She often pondered the exact nature of this world, where magic was a force that could be controlled, just like gravity. Was it a parallel world, whose existence ran beside her own; or was it as Tolkien sometimes said: that Middle earth was real, but faded long ago before human history?  
  
So which Middle earth was she in? Parallel world Middle earth, or Back-in- time Middle Earth? Either way, Tolkien must have come here, and recorded all that she recorded, learn all that he learnt, and wrote it down in a book. This was where he may have been. This was what he had seen. This train of thought was the cause of much insomnia.  
  
So if she was here, and everything was the same as the book had recounted, it stood to reason that she had gone back in history. She had, essentially, gone back in time.  
  
And that thought was not thrilling. It sent a chill down her back, and she felt cold, as feelings of loneliness swept over her. She didn't belong here. She was lost. Lost forever in this fantasy world...  
  
There was a loud snap. The sound penetrated the cold night.  
  
Ginny woke up in a cold sweat, lying on the damp earth. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She looked around her surroundings. The others were sleeping now, and Susie was lying peacefully, after another trip to a concealing bush. There were two pads left. She was also supposed to be on guard. The rounded bedrolls around her were a comforting sight.  
  
She blinked, rubbing her eyes, and blackness appeared inside her eyelids, an image of a black orb. She shook her head, as the nightly sounds of the fellowship returned to her ears.  
  
All the members of the Fellowship had a different kind of snore. She now found she could identify who was asleep and who wasn't. Aragorn, who hardly ever slept anyway, had a low and quiet ranger snore. Gandalf's was wheezy; Gimli's gruff. Pippin had a certain trill to his breathing when he inhaled, and Merry desperately needed vocal surgery. Surprisingly, Frodo was the loudest snorer, but he also had the most nightmares. This meant Sam slept less than his master, and also more quietly. Legolas, during his brief time with the Fellowship, did not snore, but Ginny took care not to camp near him because he would sleep with both eyes open, which is not a nice sight when you wake up at 2 am.  
  
Boromir always slept soundly, like a soldier, and was always early to wake. He growled in his sleep a lot, and once, Ginny saw him smiling, as if in a nostalgic dream. The sight of him happy brought tears to her eyes, that one day, this mighty and noble soldier would die in guilt defending his comrades.  
  
There was a growl from the trees.  
  
She blinked again, wondering if she was going crazy. Then she remembered she was in Middle earth. She couldn't get any crazier. There had been the nightly ritual of pinching herself on her left forearm, but so far it still proved ineffective.  
  
There was another growl. It was closer.  
  
She definitely didn't imagine it this time. In the impending darkness, pairs of red eyes glowed, making her back muscles tighten as she gasped for breath. Her memory flashed back to her Rings books, as she tried to recount exactly what happened to the Fellowship at this time. It had been far too long since she'd read the books, but she knew that something happened to them between Caradhras and Moria: They were attacked by wolves. As her heart rate sped up, she frantically whispered to her fellow sleepers, trying to whisper their names.  
  
She looked at the innumerable pairs of red eyes; sweat beading on her forehead.  
  
"Oh shit." She said. 


	11. Lupine Encounters

A/N: I feel the obligation to apologise for the delay. I have been 'pre-occupied in other areas', but the fact is, I'm a lazy female fifteen year old with not much of a career or any long-term inspiration. I have no valid excuse. To those readers who still read this, I am truly awed by your patience and I kowtow to you. Enjoy the chapter anyway.

* * *

Part 11

It can be noted that when faced with extreme danger, the human brain will slow down time. This is a familiar circumstance for people who face those typical life-or-death situations. The heart rate speeds up, adrenalin is pumped through the body, and the eyes process several times more information per blink than customary.

This was what Ginny experienced, eyes wide open.

First she saw the sky, which was black, unsurprisingly. Stars twinkled cheerily down at her, and she watched, mesmerised briefly.

And then she remembered the wolves. Her sight suddenly became crystal clear as she blinked frantically at the creatures, and she remembered every detail.

The wolf closest to her had seven brown spots on his left flank. Its teeth was the colour of her yellow ochre oil paint. Its eyes were a glowing vermilion. And it smelled of decay and death.

Her pulse was racing, her breathing fast. She heard her blood rushing in her ears. She sat, still, hoping against hope they didn't see her.

This hope was somewhat thwarted by the wolf that immediately sprang, a black form that leapt into the air towards her.

She screamed, and moved.

She moved faster and more fluidly than she had ever done in her life. To her left was a bundle of blankets –Merry, still asleep. Beside his makeshift pillow was his belt. Hanging upon it, in her reach, was the small Numenorean knife that he used for a sword.

Hearing low growls some way behind her, she grabbed the hilt of the knife, cold and smooth in her palm, and swung it out to meet the foul creature.

The metal made a smooth, swishing sound, its surprising weight carrying her in her spin.

She turned around, blade shining in the darkness, ready to meet her foe...

...except her left foot got caught on the belt, like _this_, and her right foot skidded a little with the weight of the weapon, like _so_...

With a muffled "oof", Ginny fell over in the dirt.

* * *

"Thank God that's over." Ruth rubbed her forehead with her palm, eyes closed.

The Mirkwood prince said nothing. He did look very odd, she thought, in that loose, short sweater, and the cropped shorts. She could not find shoes to fit him, so he'd had to wear a pair of boots that were once part of a Santa Claus ensemble her husband bought. He had a tense look on his face, and his eyes were wide in a concentrated way. Even with his hair tied back and his strange unfitting garb, one could tell the aura of a hunter about him.

His head turned sharply, a quick movement that seemed so fluid - she did not notice LaRose had come back. The grandmother, past her youth, struggled to climb the ladder that lead up to the attic. Legolas moved to help her. He took one of her arms to support her, but LaRose brushed it aside indifferently.

Ruth stood up from the dusty suitcase she'd been sitting on for the last twenty minutes.

"What was all that about?" she said.

"Nothing. It was just my doctor checking on me." LaRose smoothly replied.

"A home call?!" Ruth had rarely heard of such a thing, a white elephant in the National Health Service.

"Well, she was just checking up on me."

"Why," Ruth took her arm, "Mother, you're not ill are you?"

"No, no, course not. Just a mild malady – we all have them." LaRose walked around, as if brushing dust off the jumbled antiques of her attic. She ignored her daughter's concerned expression, "I've been having trouble getting up in the morning... and some other things."

"Mother, I live five minutes away (fortunately or unfortunately), why did you never call me for help?"

"I don't need you. I'm not some disabled pensioner you know. I can brush my own teeth and vacuum my own house."

"I know you can mother, but why do you insist on doing everything by yourself?"

"Because I'm not old!" This was spoken with such force it came almost as a yell. Ruth bit her lip. Even Legolas seemed a little embarrassed by this outburst. LaRose was looking at him when she spoke. He could not understand English, but Elves can understand meaning within all tongues, and he felt a little sympathy for this aged yet resolute belle.

"Lady, you are by no means old," he spoke in the Common Tongue, which both mother and daughter seemed to understand, for reasons that he did not, "You must not believe yourself to be. You are past youth, but yet, so am I. Lady is healthy and fair and robust. Your daughter loves you very much, so do not think that your life is ending."

Ruth mentally rolled her eyes. Legolas spoke with a slight mocking smile at his own words, yet they came out with a real sincerity, that despite their feebleness, they made LaRose smile with real pleasure.

She went pink in the cheeks, and really, no one could call her old then.

* * *

The wolf-demon sprang.

And was felled immediately by a smart rock. Ginny looked up from the ground where she had been lying. The feller was Boromir.

The others were awake now.

"Gather in a circle!" Aragorn cried, already armed. His ranger sword reflected the light of the wan moon, and the red eyes followed it as he came forward. The hobbits had all drawn their swords (Merry had snatched his back from Ginny's trembling hands). They huddled together, but their eyes showed courage. Ginny hurriedly put on her glasses, in time to watch the wolves circle.

The Fellowship gathered in a circle shoulder to shoulder around their meagre fire, their backs to it. The air was thick with the hum of low growling.

So the battle began.

"Susie!" Gandalf cried at the girl, who, despite all the commotion, was still snoring. With a helpful kick from her friend from earth, the blonde girl woke, screamed, and dressed within the space of four seconds.

"Fuck! This didn't happen in the film!" she whined.

"Never mind. Can you use the bow?" Ginny shoved the Elven bow that Legolas had left behind into her hand, and threw a quiver of arrows at her.

"Not like this! I don't know how!"

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but instead screamed as two wolves came at her. She ducked close to the ground, and heard the sound of Gimli's axe at work, mentally thanking him for saving her life. She closed her eyes and smelt blood, thanking god it wasn't her own; heard the tearing sound of flesh as sword hacked and axes swung, sometimes the yelp of a fallen wolf, a yell as Pippin ducked and Merry stabbed, or Gimli hacking. It sounded like a butcher's knife.

Shouldn't the bow of Legolas be singing here? She wondered cynically.

Scrambling through the melee, she found her own long knife, and prepared to do the Mary Sue deed, and fight for her life.

She looked up, backed by the other members of the fellowship. In front of her was a lone wolf. Foul smelling was its breath, and it paced the ground, metres in front of her, as if deciding whether to attack or not. Ginny trembled. The sweat of her hands was making the leather sword hilt slippery. She never remembered the knife to be so heavy.

The beast ran at her, mouth agape, its feet making padding sounds on the ground, and she stopped panicking and let her primal instincts work. Sure, they had been blunted by years of TV radiation and PC games, but they were still there.

Screaming something like a war cry ('die, Britney!'), she swung the sword like a club and by pure chance managed to hit the wolf with the sharp edge. The impact rocked her feeble arms. The beast was knocked aside, a bleeding gash at his side. Ginny felt the warm spray of blood on her hands.

She ran again at the fiend, this time with the pointy end. The wolf lunged at her, but she dodged its teeth and lunged for the space below its throat.

It took all the strength she had to push the pointy end into the body of the creature. It was like shoving a broom handle through a mattress. She cried out loud as she pushed, and the sharp metal finally sank into bloody flesh. Yet still the wolf tried to claw at her before it died.

Ginny almost screamed with sheer relief – she had survived her first encounter, but barely could she get her breath back, than she saw another wolf leaping at her from the darkness.

She could not run – there was nowhere to run to, and her sword was still stuck in the corpse of the other wolf. She tugged vainly at it. She screamed and shielded herself with her arms in vain hope.

Then she heard the unmistakeable sound of a bowstring.

Standing on an upturned pot on a high knoll, Susie was exercising Legolas' bow. Arrow after arrow flew glittering into the darkness, aimed by the determined, if absolutely terrified girl. She was blindly firing, yet Ginny saw some arrows had indeed reached their mark – three wolf corpses now lay around her, green flight feathers protruding from their hide.

Boromir stood near the once-divine girl, hacking at any wolf who got too close to him or Susie. He moved with great force, and each slash of his blade was lethal. Ginny tried not to look at Aragorn, because his furious, whirring movements made her dizzy.

She managed to retrieve her sword, and after the first kill, it became very (very) _slightly_ easier. She hewed at another beast by whacking at its head with the flat edge of the sword, and Gimli the stout stood on her right, aiding her by driving his double headed axe into the beast's back.

And she realised she was not afraid.

Not because she realised that as long as you held a sword by the not-pointy end you'd know how to use it; not because her comrades were such good fighters, even Sam and Frodo; not because Susie had learned to shoot and was actually becoming quite a good Mary Sue; but because in the book, this was such an inconsequential thing. Susie was right – it wasn't even mentioned in the film.

This battle was totally unimportant; the fellowship come through completely unscathed and Legolas (absent as he now was) even finds all his arrows again.

She sighed as she hacked again, screaming as she drove her sword into a wolf barging at her.

So why was it such bloody hard work?

Turning her head, she saw Gandalf. Tall and menacing he stood, and he took up a burning brand, and flung it into the massing wolves.

He spoke, and his voice rolled like thunder. Ginny remembered reading the italic words from FotR, and whispered along to them.

"_Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!_"

There was a great roaring as a tree near the old wizard caught flame in a crown of red. The blaze spread from leaf to tree to tree-top, until the whole hill was crowned with dazzling light.

_And to think Gandalf was a friend to Ents. What would they say to his tree-arson?_

Swords glowed orange as they were lowered. Susie loosed an arrow at a wolf-chieftain who lunged for her. The arrow struck just as it was a metre away from her throat. The wolf fell, dead.

The others fled, and did not return.

"What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin?" said Sam, sheathing his sword in a resolved fashion, "Wolves won't get him. That was an eye opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair of my head!"

Ginny laughed an exhausted laugh, happy with relief to be alive, but secretly, the conservationist inside was furious as smoke continued to rise from the tree-tops. In the morning there would only be stumps left.

* * *

The air was crisp the next day. Ginny knew with a sickening feeling that they would now be heading to Moria. Both she and Susie knew Gandalf's fate, yet Susie was strangely subdued the next day.

The smell of burning still lingered in the morning, yet all the walkers were cheery. Sam had cooked a tasty if meagre breakfast of wild fried mushrooms, and even the fully grown men were satiated.

Boromir was teaching Ginny to clean her sword. She had grown to like this man, despite his unclean odour, for which he could hardly be blamed for. He reminded her of the man her father was not.

"Grind it smoothly, like _this_," he said, with a forceful stroke of the stone by his powerful arm. He was a large man, somewhat grim, but not unkind, "You must clean it before putting it in your sheath. Blood is the enemy of every weapon."

Ginny nodded, "Thank you for throwing the rock last night,"

The man looked at her quirkily, a smile on his face, and she said, "You know? When I was screaming? You threw that rock and killed the first wolf."

Boromir laughed, a loud and hearty sound, "I could hardly throw my sword, could I? Alas, I am not the archer that my brother is, and I did not think I would need a bow for this quest. I found the only other available option." He took a cloth and wiped his own blade pensively, "I often think of Faramir. How will he cope without his bigger brother?" he laughed, a somewhat sad sound. Ginny suddenly remembered how she had shouted to the whole world at the council how he was going to die. She blushed at her immaturity. She had told this man about his death, yet still he went forward to it.

"You know..." she started, and then blushed. The tall man of Gondor peered at her critically.

"You have something to say. Speak, unless it be obscene, as so many of your words are."

"You know how in Rivendell I said you were going to die...?" she began softly.

"I do seem to have a distant recollection of that, yes." He replied curtly, staring at his sword blade.

"Well, um, you're not." She lied weakly.

He gave a grim laugh.

"I will. Even if not now, I am still mortal. Someday I will pass on, but it was not for you to know."

"No." Ginny said quietly. There was a hard, determined look on her face that had not been there before, "No, you will not die."

"What do you-"

But he did not have time to finish. They had to move. Susie had returned. All her arrows were intact from the nights affray, lying about on the grass. The wolves, alive or dead, were all vanished. Those were no ordinary wolves. In a purely metaphoric sense, Sauron's arm was long indeed.

It was strange how easily they decided to go to Moria. It was obvious that none of them particularly wanted to, except perhaps Gimli, yet still they went. Even Gandalf, who was pressing them.

For the first time that morning, Susie spoke.

"We should not go to Moria. There, one of our number will perish to something beyond the reckoning of the world." She meant the balrog, of course, but Ginny didn't understand why she had to be so dramatic about it. She was scaring the hobbits.

"There which path do you suppose we should follow?" Gandalf asked impatiently. Ginny felt a bit sorry for her friend. Her still menstrual friend. Susie had had to tear off the skirt of her gown to make rags after using up all the disposable amenities. Rags, to be used as sanitary towels. It was a very sordid affair, but Ginny's offered help to wash the rags had been declined. The Mary Sue was still too proud to show her vulnerability.

Like now, she had no answer for the supposedly wise wizard. Ginny noticed, with increasing irritation, how totally incompetent the wizard was to lead them. His answers were always vague. Didn't he know Moria was dead and abandoned? Why didn't he tell Gimli that? Didn't he had some suspicion that some timeless evil lurked in its depths? Didn't all the elves? And why weren't any other members of the Fellowship alerted to this option at the beginning of the quest? Did he plan to lead them into a dead underground city maze of stone without a map and only following his nose?

It was obvious how much the other walkers relied on him. Gandalf was indisputably the leader; even Aragorn succumbed to his will. He was the one with the Map, the Miruvor and the knobbly powerful staff which so far he had not used yet. He was the one with the pretty words that burned things. Yet sometimes Ginny wondered if he really knew what he was doing.

He was going to lead his entourage of dependants into sheer danger, play the hero by sacrificing himself supposedly to save them, only to leave them clueless and abandoned with no clue to what to do next.

No wonder they're so happy when he returns, whiter than white, she thought cynically. But why did he have to die before he could use his Valar-given powers?

And Ginny certainly didn't approve the way he made Frodo choose which way to go on Caradhras. The Ringbearer was already burdened with responsibility, so why burden him with another such heavy choice? He didn't want to take the ring – his conscience told him to. And it would reward him with a fate worse than death.

Still, it had already been decided, and the movie-invoked opinions of two alien teenage girls were not going to change anything.

But Ginny kept in mind the Elvish word for 'friend'.


End file.
